The Mysteries of Death
by Mavet Seraph
Summary: After OoP, Severus muses about his past sins, and Harry reflects on current events. But why is the new DADA professor meddling with these affairs? Will Severus be able to face his greatest fear? Can Harry rescue the most terrible weapon in existence?
1. Building a Mystery

The Mysteries of Death

Hello everyone! Princess Nekita here! Guess what! I read Order of the Phoenix in one day! ONE! I'm quite proud! Anyway, I realize that the other story I had posted here needed much revamping after the introduction of book 5, and quite frankly, I'm getting bored with it. I had intended to do a whole sequel too, but alas… So here's my new baby! I got inspired right after reading the fifth book, and the whole plot's been stewing in my head for a few days, but I think I like where it's going. It has a similar basis as my previous story, 'On Wings of Secrecy', but I think this one is executed in a much better way than 'Wings'. Okay, enough of my blabbing, ON WITH THE STORY!

Chapter One: Building a Mystery 

You come out at night

That's when the energy comes

And the dark side's light

And the vampires roam

You strut your Astor wear

And a suicide poem

And a cross from a faith 

That died before Jesus came

You're building a mystery…

– _Building a Mystery_ by Sarah McLauchlan

Severus groaned inwardly as he sat down at the staff table and watched the numerous children that poured into the Great Hall. He was dreading another year of this – teaching lousy brats who were so completely convinced of their own ability, when in fact, it was nothing short of pitiful. 

And it wasn't as if he didn't already have enough on his plate. For some strange reason, the Dark Lord was becoming evermore impervious to the Potion Master's attempts to extract any useful information. 

But this was no time to be considering such things, as students filed into their house tables, Severus decided. So he made a mental note to look through these uncertainties when he was back within the confines of his office. 

Through narrowed eyes, Severus kept a closely watchful eye on the Potter boy as he came into view along with his friends at the Gryffindor table, unaware that his fists were balled and shaking. The boy had no respect for privacy, and Severus doubted he would ever forgive the little brat for sneaking into his Pensieve last year. 

As Harry Potter surveyed the staff table, looking for new faces, his eyes locked briefly with those of his Potions professor. The man's dark, fathomless eyes were angrily narrowed and Harry sullenly looked away as his conviction withered beneath him. He realized that he had still not told Ron and Hermione about his little trip through Snape's Pensieve. He couldn't, Harry realized; he had already breached what little (if any) trust there was between him and Snape. He was not about to go blabbing what he had seen to the entire school. 

"Hey, Harry," Ron began, seated to Harry's left. "I don't recognize anyone new. Who's the new DADA professor?"

The same thought had entered Harry's mind moments earlier. "I dunno, Ron. Maybe they're not here yet?"

"I don't really care who teaches us this year." Hermione said matter-of-factly. "No one can even come close to Umbridge last year. Whoever it is will be a welcome change."

"Well, you're right about one thing, Hermione, but I reckon Snape could have given her a run for her money." Ron laughed.

"Don't even think it, Ron. Snape's an angel compared to her," Harry said, maybe a little too forcefully. 

"Whoa, sure, Harry… I'm just wondering if Snape's meddled with your head a little too much during that Occlumency stuff."

"No, Ron, I'm fine. I just want to get this over with. What letter are they at, Hermione?"

"'R' about now," said Hermione, who was quite content to watch the Sorting, rather than debate the useless with the two boys. Harry and Ron clapped lazily as another Gryffindor was named and seated at their table. 

When at last the Sorting was over, Professor Dumbledore stood to make his annual Start-of-Term speech. "Welcome, welcome, to all the new faces, as well as the old. To all those returning to Hogwarts this year, I wish you all a much better succession to the year's last, and remind you all that my policy will be no less strict than it was before last year's… unpleasantness. To all first years, the rules stand thus: The Forbidden forest is named such for a reason, so don't be wandering anywhere near the vicinity. There is to be no magic used in the halls or corridors, and there are to be no students out of bed after curfew. That said – 

But Dumbledore was suddenly interrupted by the loud creaking of the large oak doors as a new person entered the Great Hall. The tall, lean figure, swathed in a long, black traveling cloak, pushed back it's hood, revealing the head of a woman beneath it. Harry's first impression was of Snape; except that this woman was one of the most beautiful he had ever seen. Her flawless skin was pale ivory and her long, shiny hair was blacker than the blackest night sky. She had a narrow jaw, high cheekbones, and thin, stern eyebrows, beneath which sat two gleaming eyes. Her right eye was a startling green, but the left was scarlet with a slitted pupil and a scar running down it, right over her eyelid, past her brow, and down to her cheek. It was a startling image. Harry wondered how a thing of such beauty could be twisted by something so… sinister.

"My apologies, Headmaster," spoke the woman in a stern, yet captivating tone. "There was an…incident which required my attention."

"I see. Business as usual, or something more?"

"Business as usual, though I intend to have another little chat with my subordinates."

"Good, good." Then in a louder voice, Dumbledore said, "May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: Professor… ah…—

"Seraph," supplied the woman, quickly.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed with a small smile. "I trust that you will show Professor Seraph the same respect that you show your other professors. That said, tuck in, everyone!" Suddenly all the tables were covered in platters of food, but for once, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were not attacking these; they were still staring at their new professor as she made her way up to the Head Table.

"You know, I think this is going to be our best Defense class yet, this year." Ron said with a stupid grin plastered across his face. 

"Yeah…" Harry agreed.

"Oh, will the two of you just shut up." Hermione said with exasperation. "You're acting like you've never seen a woman before."

"None like that," said Ron as the pair turned and began to pile food onto their plates.

"Wonder what happened to her eye." Dean said from across the table.

"Well," said Hermione, as if it were the plainest thing in the world, "It looks like she got into a fight and got slashed across her face.

"Obviously," agreed Dean, "but why's it all red and creepy? It looks like—

"It looks like one of Voldemort's eyes." Harry interrupted, and the end of the table went silent.

"Really? He has eyes like that?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded glumly and shoved more potatoes into his mouth.

"You don't think…?"

"Don't be stupid, Ron." Hermione snapped. "If she _was _one of Voldemort's minions, Professor Snape would probably know about it, and Harry would have had—

"Drop it, Hermione." Harry said angrily. "She doesn't work for him."

Dumbledore had called a short staff meeting, after the welcoming feast, in his office, which was why Severus was, at the moment, traveling up the spiral staircase towards the door with the griffin knocker. As he entered the room, he found Albus sitting at his desk, and Minerva in a chair across from him. 

"Have a seat, Severus," said Albus, indicating the chair to McGonagall's left. "Lemon Sherbet?" 

"No, thank you. Can we get to the point, Albus? I daresay you have something important to share, seeing as you've only summoned the two of us."

"Yes, yes, we are simply waiting for Professor Seraph," said Dumbledore with a hint of uneasiness.

"Who is she?" pressed Snape. "I've only seen one other person with eyes like that, and you don't even know how he became so… disfigured."

"I assure you, I don't know what the reason is behind her appearance, Severus, and I'm not about to delve into her personal life—

"Which I thank you for, greatly, Albus." Professor Seraph had appeared behind the two Heads of House, and moved to stand at the side of the desk, next to the Headmaster. Severus felt a shiver flow through him as she passed.

"Might I inquire as to the disturbance you mentioned before?" asked Dumbledore, whom neither Minerva, nor Severus, had ever seen so unsure of himself. There was something about that woman…

"Simply Phobos and Deimos, but I have already spoken to them," she replied briskly.

"Are you sure they are to be trusted?"

Professor Seraph sighed heavily. "Apart from the Bright One, they are the _only_ ones I trust.

"Albus, excuse me," interrupted McGonagall, "but what's going on?"

"That is precisely what I would like to know, as well." Severus said, with narrowed eyes.

Albus turned back towards the woman beside him, still clad solely in black. "I'm not exactly sure what it is you would like me to tell them."

"The truth, Albus," said Professor Seraph. "I will trust your people only because I fear that I cannot trust my own."

"Perhaps it is better if you explain, then."

"Very well," she said with a nod, and turned to the two professors across from her.

"There is a war brewing," she began, "not only here on Earth, but in Heaven as well. A great weapon has been stolen, a weapon of God. Heaven has become divided with this knowledge, and, quite frankly, not even the High Powers can be sure of who is still loyal to the throne. This is why they have sent me."

"And why are they so sure that _you_ can be trusted?" asked Severus.

Professor Seraph simply smiled. "I am a Seraphim, an Angel of the highest rank in Heaven, but more importantly, I am the Angel of Death. This is a weapon that I alone have the authorization to wield; therefore, I must get it back."

Severus snorted and turned to stare contemptuously at his employer. "Albus, do you really believe this?"

"Severus…"Albus hissed warningly, but Professor Seraph held out her hands as a sign of resolve. Now that her hands had extricated themselves from her cloak, all three professors could see that she wore a silver ring on every finger except for her thumbs. Each ring was delicately crafted, and each bore the form of a different creature, a raven, a griffin, a cat, and a wolf on one hand, and a serpent, a bat, a dragon, and a scorpion on the other. Though, of all the rings, only the serpent bore any colour to its appearance; two tiny emeralds set into its eyes.

"Not to worry, Albus, if anyone can make a believer out of a Slytherin, it's me." And with that, Professor Seraph spread her arms wide, exhaled once, and her form was simply not there anymore. Or, at least, it wasn't solid. In the middle of the Headmaster's office now hovered a wispy orb-like figure that seemed to be made of black smoke, except that it also seemed to have become luminous. Six black wings were attached to the back of what was assumed to be the torso, and two eyes, one green, one red, shone sinisterly from the middle of the face. 

Severus swore he felt his heart stop for a moment as he beheld this heavenly (or hellish) sight. He gripped the arms of his chair so hard that his knuckles turned white, and he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The feeling of being so close to this radiant figure was hard to distinguish, Severus realized as he tried to put words to the experience. It was like being so extremely happy that you thought you were about to burst, while at the same time experiencing an incredible emotional pain. It was wondrous; it was ecstatic. It was so… immense… and then it disappeared as the solid form of Professor Seraph once again replaced the luminous smoke.

Judging from the sudden intake of breath from the body beside him, Severus realized that Professor McGonagall must have felt the same thing as he. Looking across the desk, he saw that Dumbledore was unable to suppress a violent shiver. 

"My god…" whispered the Potions Master, as he struggled to calm his wildly beating heart.

"Not quite," laughed the black robed woman.

"Does… does Death always appear as a woman?" asked Severus softly as he stared hesitantly up at the Angel. He was now thoroughly convinced enough to call her for what she apparently was.

"Funny you should ask…" she mused. "I do prefer the form of a woman, but that is my choice alone. There are many other forms I sometimes inhabit as well as that of a human. Though I often enjoy the irony; women were made to be sustainers of life, and here I am, the Angel of Death, parading around as a woman."

"May I ask a question?" Professor McGonagall spoke up.

"Certainly."

"What do you need us for? Wouldn't your task be simpler if you left us out of it?"

The Angel sighed. "Not exactly. I require the assistance of two souls. One which shares the likeness of my own, and another," she glanced sorrowfully at the serpent on her left index finger, "which does not. Other than that, I am afraid I must tell you no more."

"Yes, but does this have anything to do with He Who Must Not Be Named?" McGonagall pressed.

The Angel of Death laughed her sharp, piercing laugh. "You humans and your names. You put too much emphasis on a simple name. So much so that you fear to even mention it for fear that something disastrous should come to pass. Voldemort." She said the name slowly and deliberately, letting each syllable pass over her tongue like a connoisseur swirling a sip of wine, not bothering to notice the shudder that passed through the other woman. "Pitiful, I think. Although, it does have a nice ring to it."

"Do you have a name?" Severus asked somewhat slyly. "Or do you Angels refer to each other merely by rank and title?"

The Angel smiled. "My name is Mavet, and as cliché as it may sound, everyone screams it at one point in their life." She then turned back to Dumbledore. "Albus, you know where to find me if you need me. Until then, however, I bid you all a good night." And with that, Mavet swept from the office, nothing but a flowing figure of ebony with an amazing presence.

"Albus," began McGonagall, once the angelic specter had left, "I think you're in over your head this time."

"Yes, Minerva, I believe we are."

Severus said nothing. He couldn't seem to rid himself of the sickening feeling that crawled within his chest. Even after he had excused himself and left the Headmaster's office the same feeling of dread continued to rule him, made his throat tighten and his breath shorten. He continued to stare at the ceiling for hours, unable to rest or find peace. It was very late indeed when the potions master finally drifted off to sleep.

Yay! My first chapter! Now you know whatcha gotta do! REVIEW! P.S. As of right now, I don't have a beta, so if anyone would like the job just e-mail me (in my profile) with something like 'can I be your beta?' in the subject box. THNX!


	2. Knocking on Death's Door

The Mysteries of Death

Hello again, everyone! Wow. Two chapters uploaded within the space of three days… All I can say is: DON'T EXPECT THIS OFTEN! I've just been very much inspired within the last few days, and I've been bursting with ideas. My muse (Severus, obviously) has decided to visit me once more, and I think he's now lurking around in my basement… Oh well, he's welcome anytime, but my fingers will have to learn to type faster. I'm glad that I got so many positive reviews from the last chapter! You guys are great; reviews really make my day! Anyways, here's the next part… Happy Reading!

Chapter Two: Knocking On Death's Door 

We are the youth

We'll take your fascism away

We are the youth

Apologize for another day

We are the youth 

And politicians are so sure

We are the youth

And we are knocking on death's door

— _Anthem for the Year 2000_ by Silverchair

Harry Potter stumbled sleepily into the Great Hall the next morning, rubbing the sand from his eyes as he sat down to join his two best friends at their house table. Peering up at the Head Table, he realized that Professor Seraph was nowhere to be seen. 

"Hey, Ron," Harry asked, "What's our first class?"

"Defense," chortled Ron. "Now we'll get to see what this Seraph woman is all about."

"Oh, so that's why she's not at the Head Table; she's probably preparing a class." Harry realized. 

"Yup. Guess so."

"Don't you guys think you're a little too obsessed?" Hermione said from across the table.

At that, Ron and Harry both looked at each other, grinned, and at the same time let lose coughs that sounded vaguely like 'Lockhart!' Hermione sighed and went back to her breakfast.

Upon reaching the usual Defense classroom the Gryffindor sixth years discovered that it was locked, and when they knocked to enter, Professor Seraph stuck her head out the door.

"Stay there for a moment, please," she instructed. "We're not using this classroom today." A moment later, she appeared from within the room carrying a large broadsword with a silver handle and another, smaller, narrower sword with rubies adorning the hilt. Both were encased in leather sheaths. "Please follow me." The students did as instructed, and Professor Seraph led them down the hall to a large room devoid of all furniture and objects except for the numerous weapons that adorned the walls. "Please sit in the middle of the floor, and don't touch anything on the walls. You may stash your belongings in this corner (she indicated with a wave) seeing as you will not need them today. This will be a practical lesson."

"Finally!" Hermione said with glee. "A _practical _lesson. We haven't had one of those in nearly a year."

Once all the students were assembled and seated, Professor Seraph placed the two swords leaning against the wall, and threw off her cloak, placing it in another corner. Underneath she wore black leather pants and boots, which buckled up to her knees. Her black shirt had none of the wide, hanging sleeves that wizards loved, but was a sleeveless halter that exposed her back. Black leather gloves adorned her hands, which were no less nimble as she buckled the scabbard of the broadsword to her waist. 

"How many of you are familiar with the art of fencing?" she asked as she stood before them. Not a single one of them raised a hand. "Good." She said with a smile. "We can all begin on the same page. Now, some of you might wonder how fencing relates to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but swords are still a popular weapon among duelists today, and I want to prepare you for those times that you may find yourself without a wand. Precision, perseverance, and practicality. These are the three things I want you to be aware of when we are in this room. Now, I would like you to each select a sword from the walls around you. For now, I want you to stick to the smaller variety, and leave the broadswords alone. You will know if you have selected a broadsword if you need two hands to hold it. Go." 

As everyone scrambled towards the walls in excitement, Mavet caught the neck of Harry's robe and pulled him aside. "Potter, the Headmaster asked me to give you this." She took the smaller sword from against the wall and handed it to him. Harry caught sight of the rubies adorning the hilt, and knew immediately what he would find when he unsheathed it. Indeed the name 'Godric Gryffindor' was engraved along the blade of the fine silver sword. 

"Thank you, Professor." Harry smiled and looked up at her, willing himself not to wince, and to focus on her right eye only. 

Professor Seraph merely grinned, and Harry took his place among his friends. "Now," she began, "Hold your sword gently in your favored hand and assume a stance similar to mine. If you are right handed, stand with your right foot forward and your left foot back. If your shoulders face me squarely, you must shift your position so that only your leading side faces your opponent. Now, why do we stand like this? Can anyone tell me?"

For once, Hermione's hand was not in the air. Apparently she hadn't read much about fencing. Instead, Dean Thomas raised his hand. "It cuts off the angle so that you're opponent can't stab you where you're not protected."

"Excellent answer, Mr. Thomas. Ten points to Gryffindor. You're opponent will always try to attack you where you're unprotected, so it is imperative that you give them the least space to do so."

After the brief introduction, Professor Seraph set them up in rows, to practice the eight basic positions in swordplay as she called them out at the front of the room. 

"I want you to have practiced and memorized these positions and their corresponding numbers for next class, please," she said at the end of the lesson. "You may put your swords back where you found them, and then be dismissed."

"Well, that was surely something," commented Hermione.

"That's got to be one of the best lessons we've ever had," agreed Ron. "I mean fencing! Who'd have ever thought we'd learn how to swordfight? This is so great. I'm going to go kick Malfoy's arse."

"You'd better watch it, or you're both going to end up in a mess. We're still prefects remember? You have to set an example for the first years."

"Oh, Hermione, stop being such a… such a mother."

Hermione snorted. "I don't hear Harry complaining, do I?"

Harry had been completely silent throughout the entire conversation. In fact, he hadn't said anything since they had left Professor Seraph's adopted classroom.

"Harry? Hello?"

"Oh! What? Sorry?" Instantly, Harry snapped to attention.

"We were just wondering what you thought of the class. Sorry to interrupt any prophetic musings you may have been having." Hermione said. 

Prophetic musings. Now that was the last thing Harry needed at the moment. He still hadn't told his friends about Dumbledore's revelation in his office last June. "Oh. I thought it was good. I like her; I think she's nice." Harry said, still staring at the path ahead of him.

"You don't sound like it," Hermione pressed. "Is something wrong?"

"Professor Seraph gave me Gryffindor's sword," said Harry quietly as he and his friends rounded the corner of the hall. 

"She did? Why?" asked Ron.

"She said that Professor Dumbledore wanted me to have it."

"That can't be what's bothering you," Hermione said forcefully. The trouble was: she was right.

Harry sighed. "I can't help it, but whenever she looks at me, I get this horrible feeling. It's a little like being near a Dementor, but more like something bad is going to happen rather than I'll never be happy again."

"It must be that eye." Ron deduced. "Cause whenever I look at it, I get shivers too."

"Well, maybe you ought to ask her about it," said Hermione, once again acting the voice of reason.

"I don't think that would be a very good idea, Hermione." Harry said with a note of finality. "We'd better get to potions. You know Snape will have a fit if we're late."

Meanwhile, down in the dark, dank, musty dungeons of Hogwarts, a particularly nasty-tempered Potions Master was awaiting his class of sixth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors. As he was finishing up a report on his desk, Severus heard a faint tapping at the window. He turned and opened it, allowing the large raven at the sill to flutter onto his desk. Strangely enough, there was a note attached to its leg; not many people used birds other than owls to transport messages. Although, ravens, and crows as well, had been known to memorize messages, but then why was there a note on its leg? 

Severus, for once, ignored the rambling thoughts in his head. He was, as the Headmaster had told him on countless occasions, probably just being paranoid. 

The raven held out its scaly, clawed foot, and Severus deftly detached the message and held it to the light,

_Severus,_

_ If it is possible, I would like to speak with you after your lesson, this afternoon. There is something, I believe, I must ask of you. Burn this message if that is plausible, if not, send the raven back with a more suitable time of your choice. _

_ Many thanks,_

_ Seraph Mavet, Slayer of Souls _

Severus read the letter twice and paused, peering at the title at the end. 'Slayer of Souls', he mused, and once again, the almost nauseating feeling passed over him in a wave of cold. Hands trembling, he tossed the letter into the fire, and watched it go up in green smoke, reasoning that he could do nothing to delay the inevitable. Looking at the bird on his desk, he wondered why it hadn't yet left.

"You can go now," he said, indicating the window. The raven simply fluffed its feathers and settled itself more comfortably at the edge of his desk. "I'm closing the window." The raven began to preen its ebon feathers. "Fine, then. Your loss." Severus said in exasperation.

Harry didn't know why, but Snape was in possibly the foulest mood he had ever seen him in, this afternoon, during double potions. With the exception, of course, of when Harry had delved into the man's Pensieve last year. He had split Harry up from his friends and was taking advantage of any small opportunity to yell and rant at him.

"Potter! What did I say about the potency of Dragon's blood? Are you _trying _to demolish my lab? Detention, after class."

Harry sunk even deeper into his chair, thinking that he had only added three drops of the dreadful stuff; not nearly enough to have reduced a cauldron to smithereens, let alone an entire dungeon. He looked desperately over his shoulder, where Ron gave him a desperate look of pity.

"Weasley! Back to work!" Instantly, both boys turned their attention back to their respective potions. 

Harry stayed in his seat after the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. He gathered up all of his supplies and packed them away in his bag, and waited for the last of the students to leave, bracing himself for Snape's temper. Malfoy smirked gleefully at him on his way out. After the door had slammed shut, Snape rounded on Harry, though he appeared calmer and more collected than he had during class.

"Potter, the Headmaster wishes for you to resume Occlumency lessons. I daresay, that you will have gained some miniscule amount respect for my privacy, and that we will not have a repeat of last years' events."

"Yes, sir." Harry replied glumly. He hung his head, truly resenting his actions of several months earlier. "I'm really sorry about that."

Snape stared at him for a moment, regarding him with sinister malice before saying, "Apology accepted, Potter. You will meet me tonight at eight o'clock in my office. I'd let you go now, however, it would not look prudent to have released you after only ten minutes of detention, so I suggest that you read over your text, seeing as I have nothing else for you to do at the moment. Now where is Seraph?" He muttered the last bit under his breath as he glanced at the door.

"Why Severus, I thought, you'd never ask!"

Visibly shaken, both student and professor turned to look at the rear of the room, and saw Professor Seraph standing at the corner of Snape's desk. As the last few feathers faded from her wrist, Severus realized that she had been the raven all along. 

"And you felt the need to spy on me, why?" asked Snape angrily.

"Not spy, Severus, that's your job. I merely wanted to watch, seeing as that's what it is in my nature to do. Hello Harry," she said, noticing the boy at the desk in front of Snape.

"If you want to talk, I suggest that we go to my office." Snape said, with a quick glance at Harry.

Professor Seraph shook her head. "We can talk here. I want to know what you can tell me about this." She gestured with her hand in the air. "Morsmordre." A small, fist-sized version of the Dark Mark appeared in green smoke at her side.

"ARE YOU INSANE? You can't conjure that here! Get rid of it!"

"Relax, Severus, no one is aware of it besides the three of us." Nevertheless, Mavet waved her hand though the apparition and the smoke dispersed. "But if it bothers you so…" She let it hang. "I want to know what the significance of that is."

Severus glared at her through narrowed eyes and crossed his arms defiantly. "I refuse to believe that you don't know."

"I know that it is in someway connected to Voldemort (Severus flinched) but I need to know why."

With a sigh, the Potions master sat down on the desk next to Harry, and for a moment, the pair met each other's gaze. Then Snape looked back at Mavet and said, "It's the Dark Mark. The Dark Lord uses it as his sigil, a calling card of sorts. It is also burned into the skin of each of his followers; the Death Eaters." He chuckled. "I suppose that seems rather amusing from your point of view: Death Eaters." Professor Seraph smiled, but Harry had no idea what he'd meant. 

"What do you mean, 'burnt into them'?"

Slowly, hesitantly at first, Severus pushed back the sleeve of his robes and showed her the mark on his inner left forearm.

For a moment, Professor Seraph stared at Severus in disbelief. This had not been at all what she'd expected.

As Severus covered his arm, once again, he shot another glance back at the boy sitting in the chair beside him. "Are you going to let Potter in on your little secret, Seraph? Because I assume he'll figure it out sooner or later. By illegal means, if necessary. Other than that, I'm not quite sure why you've allowed him to remain here."

"I need to know how many Death eaters there are. I figure Potter has seen most of them."

"I think there're about thirty, maybe," said Harry.

"There are more than that." Snape said instantly.

"How many more?"

"I can't be sure. He's never assembled them all at one time. I assume you've been sent to kill the Dark Lord?"

"Does Voldemort also bear this mark?" Professor Seraph asked suddenly, almost on impulse. 

"No, of course not." Snape answered. 

That was the last straw. Mavet didn't really know why she had asked him that. It simply seemed logical that Voldemort would be physically affiliated with his mark in some way, but it was apparent now, that this was not the case. The plan had been skewed. The plan had been skewed and someone was going to pay.

"Damn it!" yelled the black-robed woman, as she pounded the nearest wall with her fists. Tiny pebbles, chips of rock and much dust were instantly dislodged. "I'm going to kill them! I'm going to kill those two… Idiots!" 

"I'm afraid you've lost me," said Snape, "Which is a shame because I doubt if you ever really had me to begin with."

"I'm sorry," she said, her arms falling back to her sides. "It doesn't matter now, anyways." Then she turned to Harry and saw the wavering conviction in his face. "Oh, go _on_, then, child. I can tell that you're just _dying _to ask me a question. Perhaps more than one."

"I'm not a child," said Harry, resentfully.

"Oh, but you are. You and your Professor here, and the one you call Voldemort… even your beloved Headmaster. You are all just _children_."

"Wouldn't that imply that you're older than all of them? Even Dumbledore?" Harry asked, a little confused.

Professor Seraph laughed. "Oh, you're right about this one, Severus, he's a clever one, he is. I, Harry, am eons and eons older than you can even fathom. I had become wiser than your wisest scholars, when humanity was still in its infancy."

"Are you a… an alien?" Harry asked, having heard of such things from the muggle television at the Dursley's, though even then, he wasn't allowed access to it that often.

Professor Seraph laughed again, a hysterical grin spreading across her face. Severus just looked bored. "No living thing lives as long as my existence has lasted."

"So, then… what…?"

"She's the bloody Angel of Death, Potter." Severus spat angrily. "And so far, she's proved only to be infatuated with her riddles and her mysteries. I want to know why you're here. You've obviously come for some reason, and it is connected in some way, I think, with the Dark Lord."

Mavet smiled sadly, and spoke to Harry. "Your clever Potions Master is a hard one to impress, Harry." Then her smile faded and she turned back to Severus, her expression one of much seriousness. "There are rules, Severus. Rules that even we ethereal beings must abide by. We each have a purpose, and if we stray even a little from these guidelines, the consequences can be dire."

"But isn't it the Angel of Death's job to punish the wicked?" asked Harry. 

Once again, Snape's expression darkened; he gripped the table and stared, emotionless, at the floor.

"Yes, but only if I'm ordered to. I can't go around hacking away indiscriminately at souls _I_ feel deserve punishment. There is a certain way in which things must work so that there is not an imbalance of power. If my power were not kept in check, it would be all too easy for me to overthrow Heaven and become the new reigning power in the universe."

"So you're not here to kill Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"I cannot answer that, because even I am unsure… I was supposed to bring about justice, so you can read into that what you want, but if this weapon of mine hadn't disappeared, then I doubt you would have been aware of my presence in this matter at all."

"So who _are_ you here to kill, then?" Harry asked again, this time voicing the question that had been secretly plaguing Severus's fickle mind. 

"I cannot say."

"Then why do you insist on playing these games?" yelled Severus in exasperation as he hauled himself to his feet. "Telling us bits and pieces, and then denying us the answers to the questions that are most important!"

"I simply want to make you aware of as much as I can, and let you know that I will be requiring your… assistance… in the near future, with this matter and others. Don't forget: my hands are tied in this. It would be much easier for me if I _could _tell you everything. But the fact remains that I can't. So live with it."

"Harry," said Professor Snape in a voice of deadly calm. "I think you should leave. Now." He said all this without taking his eyes off Professor Seraph, and Harry knew he was so angry because of the tone of his voice and the fact that he had called Harry by his first name. Therefore, Harry didn't hesitate or argue; he simply grabbed his belongings and hurried out the door.

Once the sound of the closing door had reached Severus's ears, he exploded. "Damn your reasons! Who are you to parade around and meddle in the affairs—?

But Severus never got to finish his sentence, let alone his rant; Professor Seraph had swooped (there was no other word for it) down on him, and covered his mouth with her own. Severus felt her tongue slip beneath his own, and her arms snake their way around his neck. His hands had settled themselves at her waist, and before he knew it, he was kissing Mavet. He was kissing, tongue and all, the Angel of Death, and for some odd reason, this didn't seem to bother him. He knew that it should. Deep down, he had wanted to break away, to throw her off of him and demand an explanation. But he also knew, at the very centre of his soul, that this seemed right, somehow, and that no matter how badly he wanted to break away, to say no, he couldn't, and that was the end of it. It was a strange feeling, to be so calm, so at ease and at peace with… with everything, but to not quite know why. At last, Mavet released him, and Severus found himself staring down into one beautiful green eye, and one sinister, scarlet eye that was beautiful in a completely different way.

"What…? Why?" He finally settled for the one-worded question, not trusting himself with the rest of his vocabulary, which was usually one of his strong points.

"Because it's right." She said simply, resting her magnificent head against his shoulder. "Because you need this as much as I do. And I've been alone for so long. I can't stand it anymore." She hugged him close and then released him, taking a step back to give him space. "I'm sorry if I've startled you; I'm told that I can often be impulsive." She took a breath. "I mean what I say, though, but I expect I should go now. I've done enough damage here already." She moved, hesitantly, towards the door, and then looked back for a moment. "If you ever need me… you know where to find me." And with that, she slipped out the door, leaving Severus alone to ponder the repercussions of the choices he had just been presented with. He sat down very suddenly, not minding that he still was not at his desk, and thinking all the while that he would need an eternity to thoroughly examine the matters that threatened to tear him apart.

YAY! I think that chapter opened up loads of new possibilities! I'm amazed at how fast my plot is progressing! OK, so now you guys know what to do: REVIEW! Go on, press the lil' button… you can't resist… you know you want to! Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter out soon, but that all depends on how long Sevvie-poo decides to hang around… I make no promises! See ya laterz then!


	3. Shall I Give In?

The Mysteries of Death

Yay! Chapter three! Chapters make me so happy! Thanks again to all the wonderful people who reviewed! I'm not sure if the chapters will keep coming as quickly as they have been, because I start work today, and I'm not sure how much time I'll have to myself… Whee! I teach lil' kids art at a daycamp! Fun for me!

To My Reviewers…

Amy Rose – Yay! You liked my kiss scene! I'm actually very glad because that's the first kiss I've ever written that wasn't simply 'BLANK kissed BLANK and they were happy…' LOL I'm glad that you read the rest, and yes, Sevvie-poo has set up shop in my basement lair, so I now have a sort of Apothecary down here… Heh…my mom yelled down to me to come up from the 'dungeon' the other day, so that kept me amused for a while…

Emily Snape – Yeah, I also can't wait for the third movie… and eventually the 6th book… ^_^ I feel really honored to have brought you back, and yes, I read the 5th book in only one day… I would have been done sooner, but, alas, I had an exam on Monday, so I took like, an hour-long study break… grrrr…

Chapter Three: Shall I Give In? 

I can stop the pain

If I will it all away

Fallen angels at my feet

Whispered voices at my ear

Death before my eyes

Lying next to me I fear

She beckons me

Shall I give in? 

— _Whisper _by Evanescence 

The events of the preceding days had taken their tool on many, but none as much as the resident Potions Master and the Boy Who Lived. Though each dealt with their problems in their own way, they both suffered from an extreme informational overload. While Harry dwelt on what Mavet had said, Severus preferred to concentrate on what she had done. 

It was late in the evening later that week, when Harry finally felt that he couldn't take it anymore. He felt trapped. He needed answers and although his friends were excellent support, not even Hermione could decipher anything intelligible from the Angel's mismatched clues. He had decided he needed inside information, and no one was more interconnected with the goings on of Hogwarts than one Albus Dumbledore. 

"I'd like to see Professor Dumbledore, please." Harry said to the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office. The gargoyle stared for a moment and then stepped aside, allowing Harry access to the escalating spiral staircase beyond. As Harry reached the oak doors with the griffin knocker, he rapped hesitantly on it twice, thinking that maybe he should have made sure that Dumbledore was here, before seeking him out. 

Nevertheless, the door squeaked open, and Harry emerged into the familiar oval room, to find the Headmaster exactly where he'd predicted; behind his large desk, littered with trinkets. 

"What can I do for you, Harry?" asked professor Dumbledore.

"Hello, sir, um, I just wanted to ask you something."

"Of course. Have a seat, then," said Dumbledore with a wave of his hand.

Harry took a seat in one of the handsome chairs across from the Headmaster, and sighed, feeling a little foolish. "I was just wondering… do you know why Professor Seraph is here?"

The Headmaster smiled. "Found out about that, have you? Well, it's nothing to worry about. I assure you, you may speak with her about anything you desire; I trust her implicitly."

"Then why won't she tell us what she's here for?" Harry said, maybe a little to quickly.

"Ah, Professor Snape told me about your little encounter in the dungeons. I'm not completely sure I understand her reasons, but it seems we have no choice in the matter, doesn't it? Said the Headmaster with an air of uncertainty.

"Then why do I get this… bad feeling… whenever I get to close to her?" asked Harry.

"I'm not entirely sure about that, my boy, but it may be that her physical presence is too much for humans to handle, emotionally. She assumed her ethereal form in my office several days ago, and those professors who witnessed it, along with myself, felt a great deal of stress at being in the immediate vicinity of such a thing," said Dumbledore. His normally happy, optimistic air had vanished, leaving a shudder in its wake. 

"But aren't angels supposed to be good things?" Harry pressed. "Aren't they supposed to make people happy?"

Dumbledore's smile was a great deal sadder, now. "What can I say, Harry? She's Death. Why would Death make anyone happy?"

Harry simply nodded, and looked sadly down at the floor, his eyes tracing the designs of Dumbledore's ornately woven carpet. "The trouble is, sir, that I can't help but like her. Even if… even if she sometimes gives me the creeps. Am I bad, because of that? For liking Death?" Harry's face now bore a sullen appearance. 

"No, of course not, Harry," Dumbledore reassured him. "I like Professor Seraph too, Harry, Am I a bad person?"

Harry smiled. "No."

"And Professor Snape… well… never mind."

"Are you kidding? He hates her!" Harry exclaimed. "He was still yelling at her when I left the dungeons the other day."

"Indeed… well," Dumbledore trailed off, an amused sort of expression on his face, now. "Are you alright now, Harry?" he asked. His tone bore the underlying desire to bring the conversation to an end. 

"Yeah, I think so." Harry said, as he rose from the chair and made for the door. "Thank you, sir."

"Anytime Harry."

Meanwhile, Severus Snape was at a bit of a disadvantage. Hs problems were of a deeper, more personal matter, yet he felt that he could, in no way, go to the Headmaster for advice. This was not the sort of thing he could trust with any living person. Not even the man who had taken him in, allowed him to redeem himself, when the rest of the world would have been only too happy to watch him burn. 

This was his love life here, the possible damnation of his eternal soul (not that it wasn't already damned). Even to Severus, it sounded like an infernal parody. He almost laughed, if it weren't for the total seriousness of the situation. 

The Angel loved him. The Angel of Death loved him. Well, come to think of it, she had never actually said that. She had never even phrased it in a way that would infer love. _'Because it's right.' _She had said. No, love had never been inferred. Maybe a partnership of some sort? 

Severus decided to take the matter up with the only person he considered worthy to listen to his pathetic plight. This person resided upon the wall above the fireplace in the living room of Severus's quarters. This person, Severus decided, wasn't really a person, so much as a portrait; a portrait of the founder of his house, Salazar Slytherin.

"Ah, Severus, what a pleasant surprise!" grinned the green and silver robed figure on canvas, as he ran a hand down the smooth, scaly back of the emerald serpent that was draped around his shoulders. 

"Hello, Salazar." Severus said as he collapsed gracefully into the high-backed chair that faced the wall. "I need to talk to you about something."

"By all means, my friend, tell me your troubles."

Severus winced at Salazar's almost childish manner, thinking, once again, that he must have been in a very happy mood when this portrait was painted. He heaved a sigh. "Have you heard of the Angel of Death?" _Wow, Severus, what a great way to begin a conversation, _he thought to himself. _Of course he's heard of the Angel of Death. Who hasn't? _

At that, Salazar's expression darkened. "Yes," he said slowly. 

"Well, she's here. At Hogwarts. At the moment she's teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

"Is she?" Salazar mused darkly. 

"Yes. We… that is, the Headmaster, myself, and the staff members who are aware of her presence, are not sure why she is here, but it seems she has come to kill someone, or many people, and that she is searching for two… souls, I think she said."

"Did she describe these two who she's looking for?" asked Salazar.

"Yes. She said one was of her own likeness and that the other was not."

"I see," said Salazar with narrowed eyes. "Has she done something to upset you, my friend? Because I can tell you that you have nothing to fear from her, despite the… upsetting feeling… you may get from being near her."

"You know her then? Or… knew her, I suppose?" asked a surprised Severus. 

Salazar smiled. "We've met," he said tersely. Then on a more somber note, he said, "Does she still have those beautiful green eyes? Or has she opted for something else, lately?"

"Well, one of her eyes is green. The other is red with a sort of catlike pupil, and a scar running through it."

Salazar seemed surprised. "I wonder how that happened…" he said softly.

"You don't know?"

"No. But tell me, why have you come to ask me about her?" Salazar said as he flipped a stray lock of ebony off of his face. It trailed down the back of his robes to just past his shoulder blade. 

"She…" Severus hesitated, and looked up at Salazar with a guarded expression. "She kissed me… several days ago." 

"Ah… I see…"

"To be honest, I'm not quite sure what I'm worried about, but it was… rather startling, you know? And it felt like… like… I'm not even sure how to describe it."

"Like there was nothing left in the world to fear." Salazar finished for him. 

"Yes…" said Severus, wondering exactly what Salazar meant by 'We've met.'

"I know what you're thinking, my friend, but let me assure you, that was a long time ago. A very long time ago." 

"How many… partners… has she had?" Severus wondered.

"I have no idea. Many, I suppose, for she is beyond ancient, and even love does not last forever. Though, consider yourself lucky; the Angel of death is known to be quite monogamous with her partners. Not like Aphrodiel. That whore…" Salazar spat.

Severus had no idea what Salazar was talking about, but his suspicions had been disproved. Mavet seemed sincere in a way, but Severus still didn't know if this was the path he wanted to explore. He had never really loved anyone, he realized. Who was he to question this, then? 

"You're becoming far too anxious about something that ought not to be." Salazar said, bringing Severus back out of his reverie. "Don't worry so much. My advice would be to get to know her. She'll surprise you, I guarantee it."

Heh… yes, good reviewers… lots of surprises in store! But only if you review! Feel the power of the little button… it's calling to you! Next chapter up soon… See ya!


	4. Angel with the Scabbed Wings

The Mysteries of Death

Hello again everyone! Wow… this is like some kind of record for me: Four chapters in under two weeks… aren't you guys proud of me! Anyways, I know Amy Rose has been begging for a new chappy-poo… so this one's for you, girl! Best wishes to all my reviewers! I'd like to know what you think, so let me know! Even if you've already reviewed, it's nice to tell the author what you've liked or disliked since your last review! Thanks a lot, everyone! Enjoy!

Chapter Four: Angel with the Scabbed Wings 

He is the angel with the scabbed wings…

Dead is what he is, he does what he pleases

The things that he has you'll never want to see

What you're never gonna be now

Sketch a little keyhole for looking-glass people

You don't want to be him

You only want to see him

— _Angel with the Scabbed Wings _by Marilyn Manson

Harry had, at first, been a little anxious about continuing his Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. He was worried that the man's temper would suddenly flare into action, again, because of the Pensieve incident, but this was not the case. Professor Snape seemed to have totally forgotten that such a thing had ever occurred. Or maybe he was just ignoring the fact. Whatever it was, Harry was happy that he would not have to be on the receiving end of Snape's vengeance, and made no attempt whatsoever to remind him. In fact, he had been careful to avoid talking about anything that might cause Snape to refer back to the incident. So Harry headed, more happily than was to be supposed, back down to Snape's dungeon, in hopes of improving his dream-control ability. He'd been having a strange vision, lately, that he'd wanted to talk to his professor about. 

"Enter." Snape said harshly, at Harry's knocking on the door. 

Harry stepped slowly inside.

"Ah, Potter… Not late as usual, I see," said Snape, as he rose from his desk. Harry took his usual seat at the front of the classroom, took a deep breath, and prepared himself for what was to happen.

"Have you dreamed lately?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry. "Although, I've been seeing less and less of the visions, or dreams, or whatever. I'm not really sure what was going on in this one; I could only make out bits and pieces."

"Good," said Snape pleasantly. "You're finally making progress. Now keep your thoughts blank; I'm going to try to break into your mind again." He lowered his wand towards Harry and hissed, "_Legilimens!_" 

Harry's mind exploded with intensity. He was underwater, swimming with flippers – he was flying through the air on broomstick, Malfoy was about to grab – he saw a flash of red eyes, and began to fight his teacher, began to push back along the wire of power; he broke the threshold. He saw a red-haired girl – his mother – sitting in the library – Sirius was laughing in the hallway… but no, Sirius was gone… Harry blinked, and opened his eyes. He was lying on the stone floor, and as he raised himself slowly, he found that his professor had also sunk to the ground, knees up, back leaning against the large mahogany desk. Evidently, Snape had cut the connection before Harry could penetrate his thoughts any further.

"Good." Snape said, his voice slightly breathy. He appeared to be lost in thought, his gaze unfocused. Something he had seen within Harry's mind had bothered him. Something that could prove to be very embarrassing if not approached correctly. "Have you been dreaming about Professor Seraph?" Snape asked suspiciously.

Harry blushed profusely. He had to admit, he had been thinking about her quite often, as of late, and not merely because she was an Angel; she was a very beautiful woman as well. But he had never dreamt about her, not in the way that Snape was implying. "No." Harry said quickly.

Snape's gaze narrowed. "I was sure I saw a glimpse of her somewhere… in the scene with the Dark Lord…" Suddenly, Snape got to his feet and strode over to the fireplace. "_Incendio,_" he said, lighting the flames. Then he threw a handful of powder into the hearth, and called, "Mavet! A word, if you don't mind." 

There was a flash of flame, and a raven flew from the ashes of the fireplace to land on the floor beside the Potions Master. In a swirl of smoke, the raven lost its form, and instead became the smooth silhouette of Professor Seraph. Her robes today remained their predominant black, yet her cloak was a deep green, lined with fine silver. She flipped one side of her cloak aside, and the silver serpent pendant she wore became visible. Like the ring, it too had eyes of gleaming emeralds. 

"Slytherin colours, today?" asked Snape with an amused expression.

"No," she said. "My colours." She smirked. "You wanted something, Severus?"

Severus crossed his arms, and paced before his desk for a moment. "I have been giving Potter Occlumency lessons."

"Yes, I was aware."

"I found something… interesting in his mind."

"And what was that, pray tell?"

Harry tried very hard to keep from laughing. Professor Seraph was unconsciously imitating Professor Snape. Either that, or she simply shared some of his mannerisms naturally.

"You know, I assume," Snape continued, "that Potter is able to see glimpses of the Dark Lord through the link that they both share?"

"Yes."

"I saw you in one of his visions." Snape said in an accusatory tone. "So tell me: how have you come in contact with the Dark Lord?"

"I assure you, I have never met the man." Professor Seraph said, somewhat confused. "Maybe you didn't see what you thought you saw."

"I am sure," Snape pressed. "I saw a shadowed figure through the Dark Lord's eyes. A figure with one green eye and one red one. Now, tell me: who else besides you fits that description?"

Slowly, the realization began to form on Professor Seraph's face. A look of horror closely followed. "He did it again." She muttered viciously under her breath. Then she looked back at Severus. "Which eye was red, the left or the right?"

Snape hesitated for a moment, and then approached Harry again. "Keep your mind blank," he said quietly, and raised his arms to press both palms against the sides of Harry's head. Slowly, Harry felt his mind go numb, and his eyes close sleepily, as Snape sifted through the individual thoughts in his head until he found the one he wanted. There was no pain this time, he noticed; just a peaceful sleepiness. 

Severus closed his eyes as the vision he'd selected played out for him in full. If he'd been aware of muggle computers, he'd have compared the method to selecting and playing any specific video file. 

He was in a dark room, staring out from eyes that were not his own, from beneath a hood that was also, not his own. He was in a sort of dimly lit throne room, with floors and pillars of black marble. He knew this throne room; it was the Dark Lord's throne room. A shadowy figure approached from beside him, on the dais. That was odd; no one ever approached the Dark Lord from the dais; they either bowed and ceased at the steps, or were summoned specifically to him. Severus felt himself rise to greet the newcomer.

"I hope you appreciate how hard this was to get, Riddle." Said the voice, blurred by smoke. 

"Oh, I do," Severus felt himself say. "I have great plans for this, indeed."

"I am sure…" said the shadowy figure, in amusement, as it came close enough for Severus to see that it had one red eye, with a slitted pupil, and a scar running lengthwise like Mavet's, and one green. The vision suddenly ended, and Severus was thrust out of Harry's mind. His eyes snapped open, and he was staring at green, as he realized that Harry was staring back at him. Severus stood and stepped away from his student, turning once again, to face the Angel behind him.

"The Dark Lord was speaking to someone, almost like an equal; someone with a red right eye and a green left eye," he said as he stared back into the Angel's green right eye and red left eye. "So it wasn't you…" 

"No."

"Professor Seraph," Harry said, speaking for the first time since she had arrived, "Are there any other angels who have eyes like yours?" 

"Yes," she sighed, smiling at the boy. "There is one other. This is who, I believe, Severus saw in your vision."

"Well?" Severus pressed. "Who is he? What is his name? I should think you would want to heavily punish any of your people who would associate themselves with the Dark Lord."

Mavet chuckled softly and then frowned as a wave of nostalgia passed over her.

"He has many names…" she said softly. "He is the one ethereal figure whom you humans have integrated so completely into your culture."

At that, Severus knew instantly whom he had seen in the Dark lord's throne room. "The Devil."

Mavet nodded. "That is the most publicized of his names. The Fallen One, Usurper of the Throne, The Prince of Darkness, Beelzebub, Lucifer, Satan, Hades. There are many more, in more tongues than I care to delve into at the moment. But, yes, you saw the Devil; fallen Angel of Heaven, now ruler of the Underworld: Hell."

"So… What does this mean?" Severus asked, as he leant casually against the frame of the great mahogany desk. "What do we do?"

Mavet paced back and forth, one hand at her waist, the other at her jaw. "That's the problem… we don't yet know enough to move ahead. I'm not even sure that Lucifer has it."

"It?" wondered Harry.

"The weapon." Mavet said nonchalantly, still immersed in thought.

"You still haven't told us exactly what this weapon is." Severus said in an accusatory manner.

"Hmm…" Mavet shook her head. "I think we should go speak with the Headmaster." And before either mortal could object, Mavet had snapped her fingers, transporting them all to the circular office in which Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was currently seated at his desk. Severus, who was merely unbalanced, was lucky enough to receive a fate much more mild than his student; Harry fell over completely, having no longer had a chair to support his awkward position. Mavet, however, seemed unperturbed, unlike Albus, who jumped upon witnessing the instant arrival of three people, unannounced, in his office.

"Albus, I need a favor." Mavet said instantly, upon their arrival.

Dumbledore was momentarily shell-shocked. "Ah… yes… If it is possible, I don't see why not."

"We, that is, Harry, Severus, and I, have made a shocking discovery that concerns the weapon I told you about. I believe that Lucifer may be in possession of it, but I must verify that before I move ahead with my plan."

"I see… Lucifer, eh? That seems likely," Albus began. "What is it that you need?"

"Well, _who _would be a more accurate question, but to get to the point, I require Severus's help and about a week's leave for the both of us."

Albus though on this for a moment and then said, "I think I can allow that, if Severus is in agreement to this."

"I am, Headmaster," said Snape.

Albus nodded. "Although," he continued, "I must ask what you intend to do with regard for your classes, until you return."

Professor Seraph opened her mouth to speak, but Snape was quicker. "I'm sure we can arrange for some study sessions in the library," he said with a smirk. "I daresay the students will need them for the tests they will have upon our return." 

Mavet shot him a questioning, yet thankful look before turning back to the Headmaster. 

"Very well then," Albus said with a nod. His fingers were steepled together upon his desk, and he seemed amused by the whole situation. "May I ask why you requested Severus's help in particular?" he asked, steeling a glance at his Potions Master.

"Severus knows more about Voldemort and his supporters than I, or, I assume, anyone else here. He also has extensive knowledge of procedural tendencies and the layout of Voldemort's, shall we say, base of operations."

"Ah… I see." Albus smiled.

"It's early," Mavet noticed. "We can leave tonight." She glanced at Severus, who nodded, and followed her to the door. "Goodbye, Harry." Mavet said with a smile. Before she slipped out the door, however, she shot a sly, amused grin at Dumbledore. "You know, Albus, I think that you may be getting a little too wise for your own good." And with that, she was gone, and Snape, with her.

"Harry," Dumbledore turned to the boy remaining in his office. "I think you should return to your dormitory now, it is nearly past curfew."

"Yes sir."

Professors Snape and Seraph made their way, quickly, down to the dungeons so that Severus could write up a quick study plan for his students. Mavet confessed that she had already done this, though where she had found the time, Severus knew not. 

"What, exactly, will we be requiring on this little crusade of yours?" asked Severus, as they past by the painting that led to his quarters. 

To which, Mavet replied, "Nothing we can find here," and led him up to the Entrance Hall. "When you fly, how do you travel?"

"I'd prefer a Thestral, but a broomstick would suffice, unless we're traveling a great distance."

"We will be; I suggest that you find a suitable steed." 

Severus led the way, as he made towards the border of the Forbidden Forest. He slipped a knife out from a sheath, hidden in his robes, and slit his palm just enough for several drops of blood to fall to the ground. Several minutes later, there were sounds of rustling in the bushes, and three Thestrals appeared in the clearing. Two began to lick at the spilt blood on the forest floor, but the third contented itself with licking at the wound on Severus's palm. He patted the horse's dragonish nose, and conjured a saddle onto it's back with a flick of his wand. Mavet began to idly stroke the black mane of one of the other Thestrals as Severus attached a bridle, also conjured magically. "Yes," he mused, "I suppose you _can _see Thestrals. How many people have you seen die?"

"Everyone." Mavet said plainly. Severus nodded.

"So," he said as he hoisted himself onto the Thestral's back. "Are you taking one as well, or is it true, about Angels having wings?"

"Oh, it's true." Mavet confirmed with a grin. Suddenly her cloak evaporated into smoke, leaving the combat uniform beneath, that she had worn the day of Harry's first fencing lesson. She removed her boots, revealing that her flared, yet slit pants ended just past her knees, and closed her eyes. Her feet began to lengthen and transform so that when she was done, she had hackles akin to that of a wolf, and three vicious-looking claws that emerged from the paws of her feet. Her spine lengthened into a tail that was easily six feet long, yet, like her feet, it was still covered in her soft, pale skin. Finally, twin scars drew themselves down her exposed shoulder blades, out of which grew magnificent, feathered wings, black on black as ebony, and at least thirty feet in their total span. 

Her transformation finished, she looked up at Severus, who had held his breath, and whose mouth was still gaping. 

"Something wrong?" she teased, her mouth curling upwards into a sly grin.

Severus finally got his bearings. "It's not quite what I pictured," he admitted.

"And I supposed you pictured a pair of shining white wings and sheer white robe?" she laughed.

"Something like that."

"Well," she said with a casual flick of her tail. "Don't let the vicious exterior frighten you." 

At that, Severus smiled. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you're not nearly as frightening at the Dark Lord."

"Oh, I can be…" She said with a dangerous grin and a glint of malice in her eyes. "I can be so much more than you've ever dreamed of." And as she took off, into the night on wings of raven black, Severus close behind, the Potions Master had a strange sense of foreboding that he would find out _exactly_ how frightening the Angel of Death could be.

Okey-dokey, peeps… you know what to do… press the little button… come on… press it I say!


	5. Emerald

The Mysteries of Death

Yay! I've finished yet another happy chapter! Aren't you proud of me! Best wishes to all of my reviewers, and hopefully I'll have the next part out sooner! I just realized that I have also hit a rather important story landmark: my first flame. Therefore I would like to take this opportunity to say that all flames will be ignored, so there's no point in posting them to begin with. Constructive criticism is welcome, but to simply say that you hate something with no proper grounds on which to hate it is not only a sign of ignorance, but stupidity. If this particular person had read more than just the first chapter, which I suspect they did not, the problems about which they were complaining would have been cleared up… but alas… they did not. Oh well. It's their loss. 

So it is with these wise words of… wisdom… heh… that I bring you all the next chapter! Isn't it lovely! Okay, I'll be quiet now…

Chapter Five: Emerald 

Confess what you crave 

A life without pain 

You'd kill for the taste 

But the hurt still remains 

Still they don't know who you are 

Just be still my emerald 

I'll be waiting for you 

Do exactly what you're told 

I'll be waiting for you 

Ashamed by the threats 

You pierce the embrace 

Afraid and alone 

In a dark lonely place 

Did you always want to be?

Did they try to steal your soul?

Did they hurt you with deceit?

Can't you come in from the cold?

Be still my emerald 

I'll be waiting for you

— _Emerald _by The Tea Party

Harry had, by no means, kept the events of the previous days a secret, though because of the nature of Snape and Seraph's mission, only he, Ron and Hermione knew what was really going on. They were quite enjoying Snape's absence one day, in Potions; they sat in groups and flipped systematically through their textbooks, supervised by the Bloody Baron, ghost of Slytherin House. 

"Where's Snape?" Malfoy had asked immediately upon entering the dungeon, sorely disappointed to find that his head of house and favorite professor was absent. 

Harry had merely grinned, enjoying the fact that he knew something Draco didn't. "I mean, Seraph wasn't exactly being discreet… They kept sneaking these strange looks at each other," said Harry wryly with a grin, one afternoon at lunch in the Great Hall. "They're probably snogging in some forest or other,"

"Eeeww! Thanks for that, Harry!" Ron said, looking horrified. Hermione laughed. "I mean," Ron continued, "why would someone as good looking as Seraph go for someone like (grimace) Snape?"

"Some women like the 'tall, dark and brooding' type, Ron." Ginny said from across the table.

Ron's expression was not eased. "Ginny, I think that's the singular most disturbing thing I've ever heard you say."

"I think it's cute," said Hermione.

"Nutters, all of you…" concluded Ron.

Contrary to popular belief, however, Severus and Mavet were not snogging in a forest (not _yet_, at least), rather they were flying overhead, the beat of Mavet's wings keeping in time with that of Severus's Thestral. They had traveled quite a distance, and Severus soon caught sight of a familiar stone figure on the horizon. Mavet angled her wings downwards, signaling their descent.

"That's where we're going?" asked Severus, somewhat skeptical. "Stonehenge?" 

"Yes." Mavet confirmed. "I need to pick up something that I hid here, not too long ago." 

As Severus's Thestral touched down on the grassy plain outside the giant stone circles, Mavet flared her wings, choosing instead to land atop one of the great figures. She leapt down inside the circular monument, and Severus dismounted to accompany her. Mavet strode to the center of the inner circle and looked around, until she was facing Severus once again. 

"Which element do you have the greatest control over?" she asked, eliciting a blank stare from the black-robed man. 

He thought for a moment, and then said. "Water."

"Figures… You were always the intellectual type." At once, she turned to the west and extended her arm, fingers stretched wide, palm down. She threw back her head and hissed to the night, an ancient tongue that stirred shivers within Severus's soul. There were too many consonants, and not enough syllables to contain them all, yet it was strangely beautiful and mesmerizing as Severus stared, unable to wrench his attention away. There was a glow emanating from the western marker stone and something forced it's way up from the earth beneath it. It hovered for a moment, in the air as Mavet walked towards it, and then settled into her grasp. She brought the bundle back to Severus, and he realized that she was carrying a massive broadsword, too heavy it seemed, for her to be handling as lightly as she was. "To Keep Silence." Mavet said cryptically as she presented the sword in its gleaming silver scabbard to the mortal before her. "An enchanted sword, possessed of the powers of water. Use it well." And with that, she walked back to the center of the circle, leaving Severus to examine the beautiful weapon at his leisure. Extricating it from its scabbard, the silver blade gleamed up at him, bearing the inscription 'To Keep Silence' in unmistakable Latin, the hilt encrusted with aquamarine and mother of pearl. He lifted the sword easily in one hand, a weapon that should have weighed over twenty pounds, yet felt like less than five. It's power seemed strange, as well, Severus discovered; like an extension of his own, much like his wand. 

Not wanting to interrupt Mavet's apparent second ritual, the Potions Master sheathed his sword, as the Angel turned this time to the east and repeated the incantation. The second sword she retrieved a sword of similar shape and girth to the one Severus now held. The scabbard was, again silver, and the silver hilt was encrusted with deep emeralds and pale jade. "To Will." Mavet announced as she bound it to her hip. Severus did the same, and buckled the Sword of Water at his side. 

"Air?" he asked, as she returned. "I would have thought you'd be the fire type."

"The Sword of Fire isn't here, at the moment, or I would have taken it. Air suits me fine as well, however." The Angel stepped towards Severus, closing the distance between them, and forcing Severus back against one of the many monumental pillars. She placed her hands on his chest, and leaned upwards to press her mouth softly against his, coaxing his lips open with a flick of her tongue so she could press herself into the warm, reciprocating cavity. Severus took the opportunity to explore her mouth as well. She tasted strangely of honeysuckle, he discovered pleasantly. After a moment, they parted, and the Seraph closed her eyes and laid her head over Severus's heart, content to listen to the pulse of his life and the breath of his being, enveloped in the warmth of his arms. 

Severus said nothing. He simply stroked her silky ebon hair, tracing the line of her jaw. 

"Would you be my partner?" she asked, her voice breathy against his robe. 

Severus didn't quite understand. "Your lover?" he asked.

Mavet laughed. "Well, that's one aspect of it." She sighed. "You would be my Lieutenant, companion, friend… lover, if you so wish. I would grant you powers ethereal in exchange for your loyalty and devotion. You would have dominion over my power and life eternal so long as you chose to remain with me."

Severus remained still. "This sounds vaguely reminiscent of a pact with the Devil," he said suspiciously. 

"Indeed, that is how mortals know of it. Lucifer and I are the only two Angels who practice partnership regularly, yet others have been known to do this from time to time. Though, Lucifer bastardizes the agreement, twisting it into a form of servitude that is often forced upon unsuspecting mortals. This is where your concept of a Devil's agreement comes from."

"But your version states that this Lieutenant of yours could step down at any time?" 

The Angel of Death looked up at her friend, and held him at arms-length. "Severus Snape, always looking for a back door." She smiled warmly. "Yes, you are free to go whenever you desire."

Severus felt scared all of a sudden, an unusual emotion for him. He felt like he was standing at the edge of a great, fathomless abyss, with no one to hold him back, and a voice beckoning him to leap. "How long do I have to decide? He asked finally. 

"That depends on how long you remain alive."

"That sounds vaguely threatening." 

"It doesn't have to be," Mavet sniffed indignantly.

Severus breathed again. "Why is it that only you and Lucifer accept partners regularly?" he asked, this time on impulse.

Mavet shrugged. It seemed too casual a gesture that it didn't look right on her. "I can't answer for him, but loneliness, I suppose. Of all the Angels in Heaven, He has been banished, and it is part of my duty to reside upon the Earth and guide lifeless souls to their proper place. I am thought of as something of a black sheep to many of my fellows," she admitted. "Though I rank above most of them," she said with a grin. 

"I think you'll have to give me a while to decide." Severus concluded. "I'd like to finish this and possibly retrieve this weapon of yours before I agree to anything else."

Mavet pouted. "All work and no play, huh?" 

"You can be extremely childish, sometimes. You know that, don't you?" Severus said as he re-mounted his winged steed. 

"But of course, Good Sir." And Mavet spread her wings, leapt into the air, and soared off with Severus hot on her tail.

"So what was her given name again, Harry?" asked Hermione thoughtfully.

"Something with an 'M', I think… Ma… Ma… Mavet! Yeah, Mavet, that's it." Harry answered. 

"Why does her given name matter so much, Hermione?" asked Ron, as he crossed his arms and laid his head down on the table in front of him. It was the day after Harry's revelation at lunch, since which, Hermione had decided to do some investigating of her own. This was the basis of the trio's presence in the Hogwarts library that morning, with Harry and Ron slouched lazily in their chairs, and Hermione bent over a pile of books.

"Well, she _is_ an Angel, isn't she? Maybe her name means something in particular… or tells us something about her… I don't know, maybe I'm being stupid." Nevertheless, she continued to flip idly through the massive collection of titles.

"Well… If it _did_ mean something, it probably wouldn't be in English, would it?" asked Ron with a drowsy expression. "What language do you think they speak in Heaven?"

Hermione simply gaped at him. "Ron, you're brilliant!" She leapt over to another shelf of books, and began rapidly evaluating each of them. A moment later she returned with several dictionaries, one Latin, one French, and a few others that were unbeknownst to both Harry and Ron. "Ah," she said as she opened the first one, nearly halfway. "Mavet: Hebrew for 'Death or the Destroyer."

"Well, I already told you that she was the Angel of Death," Harry said in exasperation. "What more do you want?"

"Well, do you know what the Angel of Death's purpose is, by any chance? Maybe that would give you a clue as to why she's here." Hermione flicked open another book and read: 'The Angel of Death acts as a mediator between the substantial world, and the ethereal world, also called Heaven and Hell. It is said that the Angel's duty is not only to lead expired souls on to their next life, but also to bear the wrath of God by punishing the wicked and those who have committed mortal sin.'

"So she's here to kill Voldemort and his Death Eaters…" Harry surmised. "But then why was she going on about rescuing some weapon? And now she tells us that the Devil is involved? 

"I don't know…" Hermione said, still staring at the book before her. Suddenly something occurred to her. "Wait. If she's here to punish the wicked, then why's she hanging around Snape?"

Ron shook his head. "Come again? I don't follow."

"Snape used to be a Death Eater, didn't he?" Hermione asked rhetorically. "So he's probably done some pretty bad things… maybe even killed a few people. Wouldn't Professor Seraph then be out for his blood? Even if he's reformed, he's still probably committed mortal sin. That's pretty major. I'd have bet pretty heavily that Professor Seraph would have either gone after him already, or simply shunned him to begin with. But she's been pretty chummy with him, and Harry thinks that they may even be romantically involved. Something about that just doesn't seem right to me." Hermione sighed, resting her head in the palm of her hand. "I hate to say it, guys, but I think I'm starting to worry about Professor Snape."

Okay, people… Reviewing is what makes a good, appreciative reader, so go on and do it!


	6. The Great Below

The Mysteries of Death

Okay folks! A new lil' chapter-poo just for you! … and Severus too; I must congratulate my muse. I find it hard to type with one hand, seeing as my snake, Scipio is monopolizing my left hand; using it as a playground… oh well… only one mouse for him next week… Anywho… I'm sorry it's been taking me longer to update, but chapter six took a while to get from my mind to my computer. I have chapter seven written and ready to go, however, I like to keep on top of myself and only release a chapter once I've finished the next one. This also helps to clear up plot-referencing mistakes, as I recently discovered… LOL I have no idea where chapter 8 will begin, but I'm sure our dear Sevvy-poo will assist me… if only I'd stop calling him that… Don't forget to review, kiddies! Enjoy!

Chapter Six: The Great Below 

Staring at the sea 

Will she come? 

Is there hope for me? 

After all is said and done 

Anything at any price 

All of this for you 

All the spoils of a wasted life 

All of this for you 

All the world has closed her eyes 

Tired faith all worn and thin 

For all we could have done 

And all that could have been 

I descend from grace 

In arms of undertow 

I will take my place 

In the great below 

— _The Great Below _by Nine Inch Nails 

As Severus glided soundlessly over miles and miles of forest, his dastardly mind decided to muse and stew about precisely the same matters that Hermione had discussed with the boys in the Hogwarts library. He glanced over at the figure adrift upon the air beside him. Why had she decided to offer this opportunity to him? He of all people probably deserved it the least… he had done so many awful and terrible things. This was the kind of thing that was supposed to be presented to great heroes and upholders of justice; people like Albus Dumbledore and (shudder) Harry Potter. But the fact remained that Mavet had chosen him, a person with such a dark past… he made a mental run-through of all the things he'd ever done in the Dark Lord's service. A sickly shudder crawled up his spine. 

"We're heading too far east." Severus suddenly spoke up, as the wind caused his cloak to whip violently behind him.

"Are we?" The Angel asked, yet she tilted her wings slightly to the right, and resumed her powerful wing beats. Her tail thrashed to the left, acting as a rudder, and she followed Severus southward. 

Some several hours later, a large fortress-like keep appeared in the distance, and Severus felt a new sensation grip him; a sensation of dread deep in his gut that signaled the presence of more than one hundred Dementors. The Potions Master reigned in his steed, following the Angel to a nearby cliff, overlooking the Dark Lord's fortress. She flared her wings, feathers sweeping the ground, as her talons stretched forward to grasp the rocky edge of the cliff. Severus dismounted, and proceeded to crouch beside her, attempting a better vantage point. 

Surveying the fortress, Severus noted that there were Dementors posted every hundred meters or so, around the castle's base, and atop it's many turrets. The windows were tall and narrow, too narrow for even the smallest child to squeeze through; they could not enter that way. Even if they managed to slip past the gate, they would be facing nearly twenty Death Eaters, fully capable of murder, mutilation, and armed to their teeth with the Dark Lord's power. Severus supposed that the pair of them _could_ simply barge into the dark Lord's throne room unscathed; he _was_ in the company of the Angel of Death, was he not? But Mavet had made it clear that this was to be more of a reconnaissance mission, and Severus supposed that the sword he'd been given was strictly 'just in case'. 

"Can I ask you a question, before we attempt the impossible?" 

Mavet nodded, seeing his doubtful expression.

"Why did you ask me to be this Lieutenant of yours? Why not ask someone with a more… honorable… past? Someone who hasn't done the things I've done; made the mistakes that I've made." He shook his head to clear his mind of the disastrous images. "It just doesn't make sense…" 

Mavet laid a hand on his arm. "I've seen worse," she said.

Severus laughed. "That's not very comforting."

"Very well then, I'll tell you why I chose you." She sighed, and sat down, her legs dangling over the edge. "Do you think I'm evil?"

"No…" he answered slowly. "Should I?"

"I don't know," she answered enigmatically. "I kill people. I murder people. I am the cause of suffering, and plagues, and natural disasters… I am, in many ways, like your Dark Lord." She looked up at the solemn expression in his eyes. "Yet you don't think me evil?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Severus took a deep breath. "Death in and of itself is not evil. Death is a part of life. It is _necessary _for death to exist because without it, matter would never be recycled. People would keep populating everywhere, out of control… like a disease. We need death to balance life, to keep the population of living things at bay. As to the way in which people die… some have earned it, I'm sure. The ones who haven't… well… pain and loss are also necessary experiences, and without them we could never appreciate joy."

"Yet Voldemort does many of the same things I have just mentioned." Mavet said provocatively. 

"Yes," Severus agreed, "but not indiscriminately. He is using his power for his gain and his gain alone. There must be a force which purges in a completely random fashion, and which punishes in a completely fair manner."

Mavet grinned like a proud parent marveling at a child's accomplishments. "And that, my friend, is why I chose you. You completely understand the concept of the necessity of death, and do not question my existence. You'd be surprised at how few people there are who _do_ understand and appreciate this. Although," she added, maliciously, "I'd have thought you'd have questioned the whole 'punishment of the wicked' part." She finished, and Severus saw the sad gleam in her eye, though he said nothing. "Cat got your tongue?"

"I – I had wondered about that, yes." Severus admitted, as he cast his gaze to the floor. "I suppose that you will now tell me what is to become of me?" If Severus was nervous, he hid it well, though Mavet was first to wrench her gaze away.

"No." She stared out towards the castle, at the many Dementors who littered it's landscape.

"No?" asked the wizard, somewhat confused.

"You are right, Severus, you have done some very terrible things in your past. And though I cannot save you from your sins, believe me I wish it were not so. But now is not the time. You will know when you are ready to bear the full weight of the consequences. Now. Have you any idea as to how we can get inside?" she asked, flicking her tail towards the great fortress.

Severus shook his head, focusing on the task at hand. "There does not appear to be any way in; it is too heavily guarded. Unless, you were planning to force our way in, then, which, I would have the utmost faith in your abilities." 

"No," she laughed. "Fortunately, Dementors are blind."

"Yes, but they can sense emotions," Severus pointed out. "We won't be able to slip past them."

"No, but we won't need to." She raised her hands and examined the rings she wore closely. "We can fly over to one of the windows as animals. It shouldn't be too hard to find one that overlooks the throne room. We should be able to eavesdrop from there." 

Severus nodded. He still felt a stab of foreboding at the prospect that he would, indeed, be paying for his sins later on.

"Would you rather be a bat, or have me carry you over as a scorpion?"

"A bat, please; I would prefer to remain a mammal, than be turned into an insect." Severus's grumpy disposition was evident in his tone.

"Actually, scorpions are arachnids." Mavet pointed out, but nevertheless, she handed him the bat ring, and he slipped it over his fourth finger; Mavet's hands were smaller than his, and it would not fit anywhere else. "Just concentrate on the bat's form," she instructed. 

Severus complied, and, moments later, there was a large, fuzzy black bat on the ground, just by the Angel's leg. 

Mavet soon joined him, though, as the raven, she was much larger than he was; he was just smaller than a crow. _Which side of the castle would you recommend we explore first?_

Severus visibly jumped at the echoing sound of Mavet's voice in his head. 

_Just think _at_ me, Severus. It's not that hard._

_To your right then, I suppose._ Severus said telepathically, once he got over the shock of someone actually speaking _in _his head.

Mavet nodded, an odd mannerism for a bird, spread her lofty wings, and leapt from the cliff, gliding around to the right side of the castle, and coming to land on the sill of one of the narrow windows. Severus wasn't far behind, as he latched onto the stone walls with his little bat claws. They stuck their furry and feathered heads (respectfully) through the narrow slit in the stone, and peered down into a small, yet dusty room, where two men were talking in hushed tones.

"Are you so sure that this is a good idea?" the first one said, a solidly built man with short brown hair.

"Of course, you idiot," the second one continued. Tall, blonde, and mocking, this was the unmistakable figure of Lucius Malfoy. "Who knows what sort of power the Dark Prince can offer us? Surely this is a limitless opportunity. And with the weapon he has presented to our lord, we will be unstoppable. We shall surely march on the Ministry within the year."

_Okay, I know where we are now. We simply have to go three windows over, and we'll get a decent view of the Dark Lord's throne room. _Severus said, as he ruffled his leathery wings, smoothing the fur on his nape. 

_I'll follow you, then. _Mavet concluded and Severus sprung from the ledge, his little bat wings flapping like mad, no more than a blur akin to that of a hummingbird. Mavet pumped her powerful wings slowly, gliding coolly after him. As they landed at the next window, Mavet craned her long neck through the slat, with Severus peering down, his tall ears brushing her chin. 

_I smell blood._ Severus noted, flaring his nostrils. Indeed, there was a wounded woman – a muggle – lying on the black marble floor below. She was bleeding from a gash in her arm, and a dark, cloaked figure was standing over her. She was crying. 

"Who are you?" she sobbed uselessly. "Why are you doing this?"

The figure, presumably the Dark Lord himself, said nothing. Instead, he raised a long, glittering blade to her throat, the tip at her jugular. 

"God, help me." The woman sobbed again, shutting her eyes for what was to come. 

As the Dark Lord slid the blade through her neck, there was a shrill, piercing scream that was instantly silenced. Strangely enough, there was no blood. Any red drops that covered the sword, evaporated instantly, or was the sword itself absorbing the woman's blood? Severus couldn't be sure; his eyesight wasn't so great in this form. The blade, still impaling the dying corpse, began to glow dimly, and the woman's body began to change. The soft, smooth skin began to blacken, and her flesh began to wither and deteriorate, her hands becoming leathery and somewhat similar to Severus's wings. Her face became a hollowed-out skull, and the nails of her toes hardened, becoming claw-like, as her feet shriveled.

Severus's small form gave a startled squeak; if he were still human, he would have retched. The sight was horrible and sickening, and he began to experience the same feeling of dread that he sometimes got from being near Mavet, only a thousand times worse.

The figure that had stood to the left of the Dark Lord's throne emerged from the shadows, drawing closer to the shriveled and blackened corpse. As he reached the woman's side, he reached down to touch her forehead, mumbled an incantation, and the body disappeared in a flash of fire and a swirl of smoke. Mavet suddenly fluffed her feathers and clawed at the stone in protest, unknowingly alerting one dark figure to their presence. He stood up, and turned around, his face hidden in shadow, but he stared up at the crevice-like window with two blazing eyes; one red, one green. Mavet shook again with anger, and flared her wings.

_Damn! We have to go. NOW! _She hissed, and threw herself from the window with Severus right beside her.

"We are being watched." They heard the menacing voice echo from the chamber, and Severus beat his wings wildly to keep up with Mavet. As the bat made to get back to the cliff, the raven cawed in protest. 

_Leave the Thestral, Severus! It will only slow us down. _

_ We are slower in these forms! _Severus protested. But the raven's form was already slowly disintegrating, being replaced with a more human form. Mavet fell blindly through the air for the few seconds that she was without wings, but she soon spread her Angel's wings again, giant, black and feathered. She rose, circling back to grab the bat that was Severus, flapping madly in the onslaught of spells that were being thrown by the Death Eater guards. Mavet clutched the furry bundle in her arms, and sped off into the dark maze of canyons and gorges, wings pumping furiously. She swerved suddenly and flung herself into a narrow groove in the rock, a small cave, well hidden, or so she hoped. Severus climbed up to her shoulder, and four eyes peered cautiously out of the fissure, watching the dark shadows that pursued them flit quickly by. 

Whether the Death eaters were on broomstick, or rode Thestrals of their own, neither bat nor Angel could be sure, but none of that mattered right now, Mavet decided. All that mattered now was that they had bore witness to the terrible crime that had been carried out by the most evil of evils. All that mattered now was not whether or not they _could_ stop this demon of Hell, but rather, _how _they did it, for if they failed, the whole world, magic and not, would quite literally go up in flames.

C'mon people! Review! Or I'll cook up something dastardly for you all! 

P.S. I think Scipio has a little too much interest in my computer screen… 


	7. Weapon

The Mysteries of Death

Hello everyone! I apologize for my lateness between chapters, but I accidentally lost chapter seven and had to rewrite the whole thing… (DREADFUL SADNESS FOR ME!) As well, FF.Net had some server problems and were down for several days. But, alas, here it is: chapter seven in its entirety… I hope you all enjoy…

Chapter Seven: Weapon 

Here by my side, an angel 

Here by my side, the devil 

Never turn your back on me 

Never turn your back on me, again 

Here by my side, it's Heaven 

Here by my side, you are destruction 

Here by my side, a new colour to paint the world 

Never turn your back on it 

Never turn your back on it, again 

Here by my side, it's Heaven 

Careful, be careful 

Careful, be careful 

This is where the world drops off 

Where the world drops off 

Careful, be careful 

You breathe in and you breathe out 

For it ain't so weird 

How it makes you a weapon 

And you give in 

And you give out 

For it ain't so weird 

How it makes you a weapon 

Never turn your back on it 

Never turn your back on it again 

Careful, be careful 

Here by my side, it's Heaven

— _Weapon _by Matthew Good Band

That night, both Angel and wizard kept a watchful vigil over the entrance to their hiding place, each taking a two-hour shift peeking out the fissure in the rock, looking for any and all signs of Voldemort's fellows. Because the makeshift cave was lacking in size, it was preferable that only one human form take up space at a time. Therefore, Severus spent his watches as his human self, seeing as his bat eyes were ill adapted to scoping great distances. Mavet curled up as a raven for the night, often snuggling into Severus's lap, her avian vision far surpassing the norm. 

At dawn Mavet awoke, Severus having had the last watch, and resumed her angelic form in hopes of making a last and final check that their pursuers were nowhere to be found. She edged her way out of the crevice, clinging to the rock wall by her claws, the wind ruffling her feathers in an almost threatening manner. After she had had a long, hard look around, Mavet reentered the cavern in a wave of relief. 

"I think we should leave now, while the light is low," she began. "If we're lucky, we can make it back to Hogwarts by nightfall."

"No. Not yet," spoke a defiant voice behind her, with a nasty edge to it. "I want some answers before I move an inch."

Mavet turned sharply and found herself at sword point; Severus was grasping the pearl and aqua hilt of the glittering silver blade that was positioned millimeters from her throat. She looked down at the weapon, and then back at Severus, her eyes wide. 

"Severus," she began calmly, collectedly. "Put the sword down."

"Not until you answer my questions. You've been keeping us all in the dark for far too long. Tell me what I want to know."

"Put the sword down and I'll answer your questions." Mavet reasoned.

"Answer my questions and I'll put the sword down." Severus challenged.

Mavet looked down at the blade again, and she tried to back further away from it, pressing her back to the wall. It was then that Severus finally understood.

"This sword," he began, "you fear it. Why?"

Mavet was becoming more and more flustered. "It's the Sword of Water, Severus," she said quickly. "Just put it down!"

"Water…"Severus mused, but nevertheless, he lowered the blade, though he still held it at his side.

Mavet sighed, and slid into a sitting position. "Water is the element that brings life, Severus, and I'm the Angel of Death. Wound me with that weapon and it will slowly drain my powers."

Severus didn't need to hear more. He quickly sheathed the sword, and sunk down so that he was facing Mavet at the same level.

"I still want answers, Angel," he said fiercely.

Mavet simply laughed. Then she sighed heavily. "Very well then, since your simply _dying_ to know…"

"Firstly, what was that spell the Dark Lord used," Severus began. "I've never seen magic like that."

"Oh, that was no spell," Mavet said darkly. "Did you not see the weapon?"

Severus furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What weapon? You saw it? Then he _does_ have it, I assume?"

"The sword he was carrying… you saw it as well."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "That's it? It's a sword? The greatest weapon ever to exist, and it's a sword?" he asked, somewhat skeptically. 

"Did you not see what it did?" cried Mavet in outrage. "You do not fully understand, nor appreciate the power of that weapon, then."

"So why don't you explain it to me?" Severus said slowly and dangerously, as he gritted his teeth.

Mavet nodded. "That sword… it… well… for lack of a better word, I guess you could say that it _eats_ souls. You saw what it did to the muggle woman?"

"Her body just… shriveled." Severus said, trying not to dwell on the experience. 

"Yes," agreed Mavet. "That is what happens to muggles who are wounded by the sword: the sword absorbs their souls by drawing blood. The longer the blade remains in the wound, the more of the soul is devoured."

Severus nodded. He suddenly realized something in the wording of Mavet's information. "You said that's what happens to muggles," he began hesitantly. "What happens when a wizard is pierced by the blade?" He still wasn't quite sure whether or not he really wanted to know.

Mavet chuckled grimly. "You wizards are slightly more fortunate. The magic that flows through your veins fights the nature of the sword, and will keep you alive and hold your form together for as long as it can. By doing this, a change occurs in the flesh closest to the wound and spans outward for as long as the blade remains there." She sighed and looked away, but she continued to speak, still. "The more the soul is destroyed, the more the sword warps the form of the victim. Slowly, they will change, their flesh becoming that of a Demon. Because Demons have no souls, the sword cannot harm that flesh. Therefore, the sword will efficiently turn any magic-ridden being it strikes into the demon spawns of Hell." She spat the last part bitterly, and continued to stare at the floor. "Why do you ask? Do you see yourself standing in its path any time soon?"

"Knowing you, probably."

Mavet chuckled, slightly amused. "Is that all?" she challenged. "I had assumed that a person of your intellectual stature would have more to ask than that."

"Why does Lucifer want the sword?"

"Same reasons as always… He wants to maim and destroy, and in the process, create an army of demons so that he can overtake Heaven. Nothing changes really, he's simply gotten better at what he does."

"But then why give it to the Dark Lord?" Severus mused aloud. "Why not use it himself?"

Mavet laughed harshly. "He can't. No immortal being aside from myself can touch the sword. He's tried to use it many times before, I assure you."

"Ah, I see. But then why would the Dark Lord agree to a plan like this? You said that to create Demons, Lucifer has to kill witches and wizards… But the Dark Lord has always been after muggles…"

"I don't know," Mavet admitted. "Maybe they've agreed to only kill certain wizards, or maybe Voldemort isn't aware of Lucifer's true motives."

Severus snorted. "I doubt the Dark Lord could be fooled by anyone's lies."

"Never underestimate Lucifer. He has more power that you could possibly imagine. Not physical strength, mind you, but strength of mind. He's always been a thinker, a planner. A devious little rat who can never be trusted, no matter how appealing he may seem. Lucifer's greatest power was always to be able to convince anyone of anything."

"They say that the Devil's greatest achievement is that nobody really believes he exists," Severus quoted, though where he had heard that particular phrase, he could not remember.

"Hmm… Yes." Mavet nodded, but she appeared to be thinking of something else.

"Doesn't this sword of yours have a name?" asked the Potions Master for no apparent reason. "I mean, wouldn't it get a little confusing if no one could figure out _which _sword in particular you were talking about? You Angels seem to be rather fond of them. "

Mavet snorted. "Would _you _name something that terrible? You wizards still fear to speak the name 'Voldemort' yet you would put a name to the most thoroughly destructive weapon in existence?"

"You must call it something…"

"We call it the Black Blade," Mavet said simply. Somehow the name didn't seem as grand and threatening as it should have. 

"Ah, I see… So, can I ask you something personal?" asked Severus. 

"You can ask, and I'll answer if I can."

"How did you get that scar across your eye? And why is it now red?"

"Are you so sure that it wasn't always red to begin with?" Mavet said enigmatically, but she proceeded, since Severus couldn't think of anything to say to that. "A short while ago, I believe it was during the mid-1940s—"

"A _short _while ago? It was before I was born!" protested the wizard.

Mavet simply glared at him indignantly. "Yes, well, forgive me, but when you've existed for billions and billions of years, half a century can seem to slip by like nothing. Anyways, during that time, I believe your dear Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was ridding the planet of one such Grindewald. At the same time, Lucifer had made another attempt for the throne. Remember when I said that the events of the ethereal and the substantial worlds could often seem entwined? I believe that the same thing can often be said about the wizarding world, and the muggle world. 

"So, Lucifer had stolen the sword in an attempt to hinder my abilities for a short while. In a futile attempt to use it, he managed to give me quite a nasty cut across my face, resulting in the appearance you see now."

Severus nodded. "I gather that his red eye was caused in much the same way?"

"Yes, but that was much earlier… many centuries ago." A wave of unhappy nostalgia passed over the Angel, and she shook her head to clear her mind of troublesome memories. "May we leave now, or do you wish to press me with more questions?"

"Just one." Severus said quietly. "Why are you here? Are you going to kill the Dark Lord or not?"

"Eventually…" laughed Mavet.

"I'm serious, don't play games with me."

"Then I cannot say."

At that, Severus stood and made to grab the sword at his side. Mavet didn't even try to stop him.

"Oh, please, Severus. Do you really mean to incapacitate me when we are less than a mile from Voldemort's keep?"

"I want answers, Angel," he spat, harshly.

"And I cannot give them to you!" she replied. "Don't you think I want to? I do, Severus, oh, how I do. But there are forces at work that will not allow me to do so. This would all be so much easier if I could tell you everything. But you are still mortal, Severus, and I do not know how these answers will affect or change what you do. Our actions are being manipulated, Severus, by the ones who have all the answers and hold all the cards. I do not even know if _I_ am on the right course. How can you possibly know how your actions will be affected by what I tell you? How can I know that I am doing the right thing by telling you in the first place?

"You're a spy, Severus, you know how dangerous too much information can be." She peered up at him, past the quivering silver blade at her throat. "I ask you to simply leave it alone for the time being. You will know soon enough."

Hesitantly, and with much inner conflict, Severus once again, sheathed the blade. 

When Mavet spoke again, her tone was upbeat and slightly humorous. "You must appreciate the irony, though: the sword you carry, the one you just threatened me with," she added in mock anger, "bears the inscription 'To Keep Silence'." She laughed again. "Do that for me, Severus: keep the silence, and you will have your answers eventually."

"Agreed," spoke the wizard, "but I believe you said something of escape?"

"Yes, I believe we should leave while the light is still low, so there will be less of a chance for them to spot us."

"You're forgetting one thing: we no longer have the Thestral, and I'm not flying back to Hogwarts as a bat."

"I never expected you to. But if you change back into a bat, it will be easier for me to fly us both back to the castle."

Severus looked appalled at such an idea. "There must be a better way," he reasoned. 

"Well, unless you would prefer that I become a griffin and fly you back as a human…" she let it hang, knowing fully that Severus's integrity would force him to choose the first option.

"Fine," he sulked, crossing his arms defiantly. He transformed back into the bat, and fluttered up to Mavet's shoulder, where he hung by his claws to the neck of her shirt and the leather choker around her throat. 

Mavet smiled and edged her way out of the fissure, climbing up the rock walls, wings folded tightly against her back. She peeked over the edge of the gorge, and took a last long look at the fortress, making sure that she couldn't be seen. With a sad sigh, she let go of the wall and fell, twisting in mid air, righting herself. At last, she spread her enormous wings, and soared off into the sky. 

Heh heh… poor lil' Sevvie, has to travel as a cute lil' fuzzy bat! I want a bat… Oh well… C'mon people! REVIEW! Review for lil' fuzzy Sevvie-poo!


	8. Gramarye

The Mysteries of Death

Hiya Everybody! Sorry for the late post, but it took me a while to write this (it's a goodie, I promise!) and then I was visiting some relatives in Montreal, so I had no access to a computer! Quite frankly, I'm surprised that I survived. LOL Anyways, I'm glad to be back in the good ol' T.O. with my sweet lil' compy and my poor neglected snakie-poo. (No one in my family except me likes Scipio, so he was a lil' lonely…) So here's the latest installment! By the way, go get the song Gramarye cuz it's really good and I love it!Thanks to my faithful reviewers, you know who you are!

Chapter Eight: Gramarye 

You show me a sign …

To rise up from the world we know 

And she's strung out on life 

He soon rolls his teeth 

Spilling out from a mouth fit to overflow 

Back into me 

She moves and it's fire (Fire underwater)

Speaks of its flame (She speaks my name)

Well they all really want you 

If only you that wanted them 

Lights move in the chalk lines 

Chains that define who I am 

Here we are again 

How could I have seen? (Always she's driving)

How could I have known? (Right through the strangest calling)

I should have known (Straight through the sound)

Gramarye, I've found (See how she's driving me down)

Straight from the sound…

She's seen as a bright sun to anyone 

Hollow and mined 

With the weight of the world 

Trailing out till the last train 

Discovers me alive on Vine 

As you move in a chalk line 

Change in the dream that I am 

Here we are the same 

I used to see something in the idea 

But only once did my hands reach 

Anything beautiful 

Now she's turned away 

And I… 

We move in its fire (Fire underwater)

Speaking its flame (It speaks my name)

She proves the liar (He soon rolls his teeth)

On every one of them (We are the same)

Lights move in a chalk line 

Change in the fire, who I am 

Here we are again 

How could I have seen? (Always she's driving)

How could I have known? (Right through the strangest calling)

Straight through the sound (Gramarye, I've found)

See how she's driving me (Always she's driving)

Back through the strangest calling (Straight through the sound)

Gramarye, I found (See how she's driving me down)

— _Gramarye _by Remy Zero

The sun was just sinking into the horizon as Mavet winged her way towards the highest turrets of Hogwarts. The sun had become a red fireball, a ruby tear falling down a dusky midnight cheek. She swooped, almost lazily, towards the rim of the nearest tower, flaring her massive wings to break, and stretching out her talons to grasp the ledge. After slipping inside, the Angel lost her wings, winding her way down the corridor until she came to the main stairway – the one, whose staircases loved to play tricks on their climbers. Seeing as the stairs were not arranged to her liking at this particular moment, she leapt over the rail, much to Severus's discomfort, and fell the three stories to the main hallway, landing catlike on her multi-jointed legs. 

_You could have let me off first, or at least warned me before performing some dastardly stunt like that. _Severus complained and clung tighter still to the Angel's collar. 

Though the halls were dark and it was far past the student's curfew, Mavet decided she was taking no chances. And there were still the prefects who roamed the corridors after dark. She immediately changed back to her completely human form, voluminous black robes materializing around her. 

"You needed to get back to the dungeons anyway, Severus. You'd still be up on that bloody staircase if I hadn't jumped. As for the stunt, I was in perfect control of what I was doing. I would never let you perish on my account." By now, Severus had fluttered to the floor and resumed his human form as well, so Mavet smirked devilishly at him. 

"You're Death, Seraph. Everyone perishes on your account." He said this sounding rather bored, and earned an infectious stream of laughter from the Angel. "I assume you'll be wanting your ring back," he said, as he slid it off his finger and proceeded to hand it to her. She raised her palm for him to cease, however, and said, "No, keep it. You may need it more than I, in the future." She bowed, solemnly and headed down the hallway to her classroom in the obvious pretense of preparing her classes for the next day. Severus, however, headed towards the Headmaster's office; he had a report to give.

The sixth-year Gryffindors assembled for their next Defense lesson as always, outside Professor Seraph's classroom; the classroom that had been home to a different teacher for each of their previous school years. Last year, Harry, and he was inclined to believe that his friends would share his opinion, would have said that Professor Lupin had been their best teacher, but now he wasn't so sure. Professor Seraph was a wonderful teacher, and she was exceedingly inspiring, if not a little intimidating. She had an air of knowing more than she let on, an air of one possessing knowledge so vast that it could enrapture the many students surrounding her for centuries, if only they should ask.

Only Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, could even come close to figuring how much their mysterious professor could teach them. Though many of the others found it rather suspicious when both she and Professor Snape disappeared at the same time, the vast majority were glad of her return, eager to resume their lessons of combat and swordplay. 

Harry, though, was more than slightly nervous when it came his turn to face her in single combat during their next lesson, finding it more than difficult to meet her sinister gaze, now that he knew her true identity and was aware of her power.

"Concentrate, Harry," she encouraged, as she cornered him against the wall of on looking students. "One, five, eight, six, three…" she numbered off the combat maneuvers for Harry as she, in turn, blocked each of his moves. "Now let's see how you do on your own." Professor Seraph had spelled her weapon so that it would not cut flesh, only bruise, but as Harry had seen how each of his classmates had fared against her, he began to realize just how formidable an opponent she could be. 

His professor blocked his first swipe quite easily, so he stabbed and thrust again, exceedingly faster in each further attempt, when his professor had blocked and advanced with a vicious attack of her own, but Harry blocked this as well. For nearly five minutes, the game played on, as teacher and student attacked and blocked each other in rapid succession, each occasionally catching the other off guard. Lastly, Harry made a surprise move of his own, after ducking beneath his professor's blade, and would have nearly sliced her in half had she not quickly flipped backwards, catching the hilt of his sword with her boot, flinging it into mid-air and catching in upon her own landing.

"Very good, Harry," she said with an exhausted smile as she handed him back Gryffindor's sword, hilt first. "You're improving quite nicely, I see. You simply have to practice your footwork, and you may match me soon enough." She smiled again and Harry rejoined his classmates, still fighting to catch his breath.

As the Gryffindor sixth years assembled at their table for dinner, they proceeded to discuss the afternoon lesson with Professor Seraph. As the talk progressed, Harry realized that he was one of the very few who hadn't received a single bruise from his professor's blade. Hermione, on the other hand, had trouble sitting, and even reaching across the table had become painful. Ron and Harry had helped to treat to her sores just after class, only to find that her sides were almost completely purple. There was also a nasty mark above her left shoulder.

"They should be gone by tomorrow morning, thanks to this salve," Harry had said in hope of cheering her up slightly. However, Hermione had discovered quite painfully, that this might be one area of study that she couldn't excel at from the aid of literature.

"I guess I'm just not cut out for physical torment." She sighed, and winced again, as Ron applied more salve. "Wow, Seraph is good," she marveled.

Harry laughed. "Well, obviously; she's had a_ lot_ longer than us to perfect her fighting style." That, at least, brought a smile to Hermione's face.

"Well, you seem to be doing well." Ron noted. "Not a single bruise to show for yourself, eh mate? Good job. So what's your secret? I think I could use a little help as well." He demonstrated this by applying a little of the salve to his upper arm, after he finished with Hermione.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I… I guess… It was like I could see what she was going to do next… or sense it, at least, maybe."

Clearly, from the expression on his face, Ron had said this in jest, but it appeared that something was, indeed, amiss.

"Maybe I was hallucinating… or not thinking right, or something," Harry insisted, trying pointlessly to disavow his friend's worries.

"Harry, we know that you've got fast reflexes, but now that you've mentioned it, you _were_ acting pretty quickly today. Almost unnaturally so." Hermione sat up, facing him as she said this. "Maybe this is another sort of dream seeing? I think you'd better ask Professor Snape about it… or at least mention it or something."

Harry nodded distantly, lost in thought, but this wasn't good enough for Hermione.

"Promise me you'll ask him, Harry," she said.

"Alright, I promise."

Severus Snape had seen neither hide, nor hair of his angelic colleague for the past two days. She was never at the high table, he noticed, during meals. And what was all this rubbish about 'if you need me, you know where to find me'?" She was never where he'd expected her to be. He'd tried her office, her classroom, and the staff room… But Professor Seraph was nowhere to be found. He sighed restlessly and picked at his plate somewhat lazily. He wasn't really hungry; he didn't usually eat much anyway, so he excused himself and set off down the empty, and now somewhat lonely, halls of Hogwarts. 

As he wound his way down towards the courtyard, Severus found himself bathed in moonlight; it was a full moon tonight. Suddenly, Severus's thoughts jumped to Remus Lupin. No doubt the man was suffering through his own ordeal tonight. At first, the resident Potions Master drifted aimlessly, gliding like an ominous black shadow across the deep verdant grounds. Then something glistening caught his eye at the edge of the lake and he strode forwards to investigate. Another black form, sitting at the water's edge turned and smiled back at him as he approached, twirling an orb of green flame flamboyantly between her long, white fingers. 

"Ah, Severus…" she said, holding the 'S' at the end of his name. Her voice was soft tonight, like falling snowflakes across the water. "I see you've found my hiding place." She smiled again, in a self-satisfied way and stared out across the lake. "I knew you'd find me if you really needed to."

"It was a mere coincidence that I wandered out to the lake tonight." Severus replied quietly, yet harshly, as only he could do.

"You think so?" asked the Angel with an enigmatic smirk Severus could only compare to the Mona Lisa. Neither one said anything for a while, they simply stood at the water's edge, watching the last bits of fog fade from the black rippling surface. Or, rather, Severus stood and Mavet knelt at the shoreline. At last, the Angel rose from her crouch and leaned gently against her human companion, lightly wrapping her arms around his thin waist. 

"Aren't you cold?" asked Severus, as he draped an arm, and with it his cloak, around the seemingly frail form that was pressed against him.

"Just a little." She looked up at him with a bittersweet expression and then she smiled. "Dance with me?" she asked, stepping back and gently tugging on his arm. She stepped back again, and Severus moved to steady her, fearing that she had forgotten the edge of the shore and stepped unknowingly into the lake. He froze mid-cry, however, and realized that Mavet was no more sinking to the watery depths than he was, though her foot had clearly passed the water's edge. He looked down in shock and saw that she appeared to be standing on the water's surface, and that the water had turned to ice where she had stood upon it, outwards of a three foot radius.

"You can walk on water?" asked Severus as he regained his composure.

"Remember when I told you what would happen if you hurt me with the Sword of Water?"

"Yes," Severus nodded.

"I cannot touch water in its natural form. Whenever I do, it becomes ice." She looked down and moved backwards again, stepping fully onto the lake, this time drawing Severus along with her. He gasped, but due to the fact that he was standing on water, or out of shock that she had pulled him so harshly, the Angel could not tell. "Dance with me," she said again, this time more a command than a request. She shifted her stance and the ice spread slowly outwards again. 

Severus tested it gingerly with a toe, as Mavet gazed at him, somewhat amused. "Are you sure it's strong enough?" he asked glaring suspiciously at where the water lapped at the thinning edge of ice.

"Just don't go near the edges," Mavet advised. "Stay close to me." She slipped one hand around his neck and grasped his hand in her other as she nudged the reluctant professor into a slow waltz. The pair traveled elegantly around the lake, its surface turning to ice wherever they went, and melting again as they passed. Severus was a remarkably good dancer, Mavet realized, and he never faltered once, though he was quick to become used to his… unusual surroundings. 

Their movements ceased after a while, and Severus soon found himself standing at the center of the lake, on a dais of ice, arms wrapped possessively around the ethereal being before him. He looked down into her remarkably bright eyes, and pressed his palm to the side of her face, lightly stroking her cheek with his thumb. It was Severus who initiated the kiss this time, pressing his mouth to hers and feeling her lips part beneath his. He trailed kisses down her neck and came to suck at the hollow of her throat, earning a sigh from the Angel as she tangled her fingers in his ebon hair. Mavet leaned up to kiss him again, and soon felt content to simply rest her head against his chest. He gently laid his chin atop her head and felt as her arms ensnared him, once again, holding on so desperately, as if he were a shadow that would suddenly vanish. 

"You're afraid of being alone, aren't you?" she asked quietly, as Severus's fingertips traced abstract patterns lightly on the back of her neck. 

"Terribly so," he agreed. "But there are worse things."

"Mmm…" she said in assent. "Yes… There are many things that are infinitely worse."

"What is Hell like?" Severus asked suddenly. His curiosity was getting the better of him.

Mavet laughed, a delightful sound that reverberated against his chest. "You ask about Hell? Most people ask first about Heaven."

"But I am asking of Hell," Severus repeated. "Can you not answer my question?"

"Indeed I can, but of all the descriptions I can give you, none of them will matter, because you have not experienced Hell for yourself."

"So then tell me of Heaven."

Mavet looked up at him, sadly.

"The same answer, I gather?"

"Yes."

"I swear, you will be the end of me, Angel," the wizard began. "And for the life of me, I can't seem to understand how I came to fall in love with you." Severus was only vaguely aware of what he had said. He knew that by admitting his feelings, he was granting her a sort of power over him, but at the moment it didn't matter.

Mavet laughed again, delighted. "The feeling is mutual, I assure you."

Ah, Severus thought. So the exchange in power has been returned. He smiled, self-satisfied, knowing that Mavet couldn't see him.

"You know," she said devilishly, as she kissed just beneath his jaw. "We could easily escape to your chambers if you wanted to continue this…"

Severus gave no verbal answer. Instead, he captured her mouth in his, once again, exploring her with his tongue. 

Mavet tilted her head back, and spread the wings that had materialized from her shoulders. She flapped them once, lifting the pair of them off of the ice dais, which melted as they did so. Another flap, and they were engulfed in a flaming orb, and instantly transported to Severus's bedroom. They kissed again, sinking down into the soft darkness that engulfed them, with no company other than the shadows and the silence.

Heh… leave all my lil' readers hanging with a bit of out-of-scene sex… LOL I'm bad… Okie-dokie, people! You know what to do! Press the lil' review button and tell me whatcha think! Ask me something interesting, and I'll reply in my next author's note! C'mon, you guys! You know you want to!


	9. Black Market Blood

The Mysteries of Death

More apologies from me, for not reviewing sooner… I live in Toronto, and for anyone who hasn't heard, there was a MASSIVE blackout over southern Ontario and New York, so I haven't been on my computer for a few days. Although, I will admit that looking at the stars that night was pretty amazing. You usually can't see them with all the other light pollution from the city, but we saw lots of constellations and that made my day!

I'll be quiet now…

To my Reviewers:

**Amy Rose:** Scipio appreciates your sympathy! And yes, there IS something up with Harry, but being the sadistic lil' one that I am… I'm not telling! ('Til later…)

**Mikee:** Yes, I'm also hoping for more Harry/ Sev interaction… More angst will follow… LOL

**Alicorn1: **YES! I want more pets! Animals rule! Especially birds. They rock, and they're really smart, almost dolphin-smart! Go get me pets people! I want more! (Studies show that people who keep companion animals lead longer lives. LOL)

Chapter Nine: Black Market Blood 

Wasted face that swallowed time 

With Armageddon crawling 

She's insane, this friend of mine 

And she's always bawling 

Hear her calling 

Hear her calling you 

Hear her calling 

Hear her calling you 

There's a place within her mind 

With rains already falling 

She's insane, this friend of mine 

And she's always bawling 

Hear her calling 

Hear her calling you 

Hear her calling 

Hear her calling you 

She's preparing for the flood 

The deluge and the sliding mud 

She's preparing for the flood 

Running on black market blood 

Black market blood 

Black market blood 

Black market blood 

Black market 

— _Black Market Blood _by Placebo

The next morning was Sunday, meaning that Severus was in no hurry to rise, a good thing, for he was never a morning person anyways. He woke early enough, for he was an extremely light sleeper, and the sound of a falcon's cry had disturbed him. There was no real point in going back to bed, he figured; there were things to be done, lessons to be planned. It was only after he had wiped the sleep from his eyes, that he remembered the events of the previous evening. Mavet had been… wonderful… extraordinary… But even these words seemed plain when contrasted with last night's pleasures. A ray of sunlight that had miraculously penetrated the dungeon walls, momentarily blinded Severus and he turned over to find the other half of his bed empty. Where had Mavet gone?

"Seraph?" Severus called. Oh, Hell, he figured if he'd slept with the woman – no, _Angel, _he realized – he could have the decency to call her by her given name. "Mavet?"

No answer. 

She must have slipped off somewhere, he reasoned. He contemplated where she could have run off too, when he noticed the open window – a window he never kept open, and was just large enough for a grown person to slip through. Hastily, the Potions Master threw on his garments and long black robes. Then he realized that he still had the silver bat ring that Mavet had given him. Throwing caution to the wind, Severus transformed into the large black bat, and fluttered out the window. 

He found her on the top of the Astronomy tower, the tallest of Hogwarts' turrets, perched with her talons clutching the highest steeple, feathers fluttering in the breeze, tail lashing nonchalantly behind her. He fluttered over to her, pumping his leathery bat wings, landed on the thin rail, hopped down to the flat walkway, and became human again. As soon as Mavet spotted him, she leapt down, finding solace in his arms. 

"Good morning, Severus. When did you wake?" she asked as she gave him a kiss, and pressed her forehead to his chest, inhaling his scent: a mix of peppermint and the dust of old books. 

"Not too long ago. Why did you leave?" Most people would not have noticed the hurt in his voice, but Mavet was not most people.

"I'm sorry," replied the Angel. "I couldn't sleep… forgive me."

"Don't apologize for something you can't help." Severus advised, and Mavet grinned, turning away from him to examine the view. The sun had just come up over the mountains, a bleary yellow haze across the sky. Mavet stared interestedly at its reflection in the lake. 

"So… what's been on your mind?" she asked, whirling around to face him.

"How could you tell there was something on my mind?" Severus asked faintly, leaning over the rail to stare at the horizon. 

"Call it a gift." Mavet simply gazed at him.

"I have been thinking about something," he admitted. "I've come to a decision."

"Yes?" Mavet perked up, hungrily waiting for Severus to continue.

"I've decided to accept your offer." He turned and stared down at her, as a pleased expression formed on her pale face.

"I see…" she said as a delighted smile curled the corners of her mouth. "I'm glad that you have."

"So…" Severus began, taking a tentative glance in her direction. "What happens now?"

"Now, I have to complete the ritual."

"I see…" Severus replied slowly. "What exactly does that entail?" he said with suspiciously narrowed eyes. 

An odd, secretive expression appeared on Mavet's face. "Well… It might be better if I don't tell you beforehand."

"I'm not going to weasel out just because you tell me something horrible," Severus sneered, crossing his arms defiantly. "Just tell me so we can get it over with."

Mavet sighed. "First I must drain you of most of your blood so that you come close to death. Then I allow my blood to mingle with yours, and the process is complete."

"That's it?" Severus arched a contemptuous eyebrow. "That doesn't sound so bad. I was expecting much worse…" He let loose a sneering laugh. "Wait…" He brought a finger pensively to his mouth and thought for a moment. "I didn't think Angels could bleed."

"We can't." Mavet agreed. "At least, not in the sense that you mean. Our blood is toxic – anything it touches will die. And the blood we shed is merely a byproduct of taking a physical form. Normally, we are made of light, and light does not bleed."

"But won't that kill me, then?"

"No, my magic will keep you alive long enough for my power to properly meld with yours."

"I'm not quite sure that I understand all of this…" Severus said with a pained expression. He hated not knowing or understanding things. Knowledge was power, after all. 

"You don't need to understand it, so long as you trust that I do."

Severus thought for a moment. There was an instant during which Mavet thought he would refuse. After a short while, however, Severus's glare lost it suspicious nature and he nodded to her.

"Very well, then," he said. "I will trust you."

"Good. Come with me, then." And Mavet leapt, catlike, onto the rail, her talons clasping firmly around the metal bar. She spread her wings and fell, twisting, through the air, flaring her feathers, at last, to swoop elegantly back into Severus's bedchambers. Severus followed in his bat form.

"It would probably be better if we did this in your lab. It will be easier to clean up after," she explained. Severus nodded and led Mavet into the neighboring room. "You still have the ring I gave you, I gather?"

"Yes."

"Good." Mavet withdrew a black-handled double-edged knife from a small scabbard at her waist. Severus was amazed that he hadn't noticed it. "Close your eyes," she said, and Severus complied. She approached him and he winced slightly as she made a small incision at the base of his neck with the knife. She resheathed the knife and tore her leather necklace from her throat, pressing the silver pendant to the wound. The reaction was instantaneous; Severus's body seized up and he felt that he couldn't support himself anymore. Mavet caught him, bringing him gently to the floor, his head in her lap, her arm curled around his torso, keeping the bloodletting pendant on the wound. 

Severus's vision faded and his mind became cloudy as the silver sucked the blood from his veins. He could feel his own heart slowing, the seconds between beats growing longer and longer, until, finally, they came to a stop. Strangely enough, he was still vaguely aware of something green and red in his field of vision, however cloudy it had become. He felt something tug at his hand and felt a distant stab of pain moments after. His eyes closed gently, and he slept.

Harry left his dormitory early in the evening, on the pretense of going to Snape for remedial potions. Ron and Hermione, however, knew that Occlumency was to be the real topic of discussion down in the dungeons. Harry wound his way down the dark passageways and stopped at the all-too-familiar door to Snape's lab. He knocked twice and waited, but there seemed to be no answer. He knocked again, and realized that the door was unlocked. It creaked open a sliver, the second time Harry's fist made contact with it. 

"Professor?" Harry called cautiously, taking a step inside. No one was there, least of all Professor Snape, or, rather, he didn't think anyone was there, until a figure emerged from the shadows. Harry jumped, startled. "Professor Seraph! What are you doing down here? Where's Professor Snape?"

Professor Seraph smiled. "He's fine, Harry, he just needed a bit of a rest. I will work on your Occlumency with you this evening."

"Is he okay?" Harry asked, as he sat down. 

"He's perfectly fine, I assure you." The Angel smiled, and clasped her necklace back around her neck. The once serpentine pendant had now taken the form of a bat's silhouette, and the emeralds were gone from the serpent ring. As she lowered her hands, Harry caught a flash of red on the inside of her palm. His eyes widened in horror, remembering what Hermione had suspected. 

"Have you hurt him?" Harry nearly yelled, rising to his feet and indicating the blood on his professor's hand. "Hermione warned me about you!" Harry made a mad dash for the door, but Professor Seraph motioned quickly with her hand and the door slammed shut. No matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't manage to yank it open. "Let me out!" he cried, "Stay away from me!"

"Harry," Professor Seraph began, as she crossed to the sink and washed the remaining blood away. "I promise you, I did not harm Professor Snape. There is nothing more I can say to prove this to you, but I hope that you can trust me." She sat down across from where Harry had previously sat, and beckoned him to resume his seat. "Now," she continued, once Harry was seated. "What, pray tell, did Hermione say about me?"

"She said that you'd probably try to hurt Professor Snape because you were the Angel of Death and he used to be a Death Eater," Harry said nervously. 

Professor Seraph sighed sadly. "Harry, please try to understand, it is rare that I would deliberately seek a person out simply to punish them. Especially in the manner you are speaking of. You don't hear about imprisoned murderers and rapists suddenly disappearing or being violently mutilated. It just isn't done anymore. And even then, I would need to be specifically ordered to punish someone in such a manner. People who have committed crimes such as the ones I have just mentioned, simply go to Hell when they die."

"So… but… Professor Snape, he can't…" Harry's voice had caught and he looked at the floor. Professor Seraph kindly put a hand on his shoulder.

"I know," she said. "I'm working on it." She shook her head and tried to brighten her expression, if merely for Harry's sake. She really didn't know what would happen to Severus, but she hoped that she could think of something. "Now, if we could return to Occlumency, something a touch less morbid. Have you dreamt lately?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "But… I was going to ask professor Snape about something…"

"You can ask me."

"Well, it was kind of about you…" Harry said a little uncomfortably. 

"That's alright," Professor Seraph told him. 

"Alright. Well, during our last Defense lesson, the one when I fought you, well, I… I think I was kind of seeing what you were going to do next. I'm not really sure if that was what was happening, but I sort of felt like I knew what was coming. I… I think that's why I did so well," he added, seeing the amused look on his professor's face.

"I know, Harry, I noticed it too." She grinned at the relieved look on his face. 

"You… you did? So what was it then?" he asked, quite interestedly. 

"It has to do with who I am, and who you are, but I cannot explain it all to you now. Just know that it is nothing you should worry about."

"Okay… I was worried that it was some form of Occlumency or something." 

"It's fine, Harry, don't worry about it." She sighed happily and said, "Okay, well, I don't think it's appropriate for me, being who I am, to be sifting around in your head, but you should be fine if you haven't been having any dreams. Just continue doing what Professor Snape told you. You can go now." But Harry made no attempt for the now-unlocked door. 

"I… I was wondering if I could ask you something."

"As always, it depends, but go on."

It was a moment before Harry spoke again, but he finally found his voice. "You meet everyone when they die, right?"

"Almost everyone," Professor Seraph answered. "There are occasional instances when I am not available at the time, such as now; I can't be teaching and dealing with deceased souls at the same time. During a time like this, however, I would usually get familiar spirits to step in for me; ravens, wolves, snakes and such."

"But, then, you must've seen my parents?" he asked hesitantly.

"Actually, I run into them quite often in Heaven. They keep asking about you. Especially when they learned that I was carrying out a mission here." The Angel smiled and laughed nostalgically.

"So they're in Heaven then? Are they happy?"

"Aside from missing you, yes, I suppose they're quite happy."

"And my godfather? Sirius?"

Professor Seraph smiled knowingly. "Of course. I imagine he was quite happy to see your parents after such a long time."

"Um… thank you," Harry sniffed, as his eyes threatened to tear up. 

"It's alright, Harry," she said, as she hugged him close. After a moment, she released him, sensing a sort of uncomfortable presence. 

"I… I guess I'll go now," Harry said, as he wiped his eyes, recovering quickly. Professor Seraph simply nodded and watched him disappear out the door.

Severus shifted restlessly in his magic-induced sleep, cold sweat running down his face. He felt a hand on his shoulder, but it was strangely absent. He could hear Mavet's voice, but it was hard to make out what she was saying. Strangely enough, he could hear Harry Potter's voice as well. Severus turned his head from side to side, but he couldn't seem to open his eyes, and what he heard seemed warped and distorted somehow. He felt something sweep suddenly by his cheek, and his eyes snapped open, startled. He was met with the upside-down grin of Mavet Seraph, and he relaxed as she slowly blinked her red and green eyes. Apparently, she had moved him to his bed after he had passed out on the floor of his lab

"How long was I out?" he asked as she wiped the sweat from his face with a cool cloth, 

"Not long; a few hours," she replied.

He struggled to sit up, and noticed a faint pain in his hand. Examining it further, Severus found that there was a large gash across his palm that had been wrapped in a bandage.

"Magic will only hinder this kind of wound," Mavet explained. "But I needed to transfer some of my blood to you."

Severus nodded absently, noticing an identical gash, half-healed, on Mavet's left hand. Remembering the incision at his neck, Severus's good hand flew to the base of his throat, only to find that the wound had closed without so much as a trace of scar tissue. 

"Dream of anything interesting?" Mavet asked suddenly.

"Yes… I heard you talking to Potter, but I couldn't make out what you were saying." He groaned and his hand flew to his head. "Am I supposed to have a raging headache?" he asked angrily. 

"Usually," laughed Mavet, but she handed him a vial of an electric blue potion. Severus took it, tilted his head back and drank it in one. He massaged his temples again and his headache began to subside. 

"I thought you might have heard Harry and I," Mavet continued wistfully. 

"What?"

"There was a short moment there, when the lines between our separate mental conjectures were blurred. You merely saw or heard me talking to Harry. He was inquiring about something related to Occlumency, so I stepped in for a moment."

Severus was about to say something, but there was something unsettling that was nagging at the back of his mind. He pressed two fingers to his neck and blinked, astonished, at Mavet. "Why do I not have a pulse? Am I dead?"

"No," Mavet laughed. "You are neither dead, nor alive. Your soul has been separated from the flow of time."

Severus chuckled softly to himself. "So for once, those stupid Gryffindors will be right about something. I've become the undead." This was followed by another stream of laughter, which could be compared closely to giggling.

"I see…" Mavet said slowly, clearly not understanding the joke. "I should leave you now, you need rest." She forced him back down to the bed and gave him a kiss before she departed, leaving her love to sleep.

Harry's next Defense lesson was a double period with the Slytherins. As Professor Seraph had instructed, the students had assembled outside the weapons room, waiting diligently for their teacher. All were devoid of weapons except for Harry, who carried Gryffindor's sword, as usual. Draco Malfoy headed the gang of sixth year Slytherins and sneered at the Gryffindors, Harry in particular, as he approached. 

"I didn't think we were supposed to have weapons, yet, Potter," he began as his gaze fell upon the ruby-hilted sword at Harry's side. Then he laughed. "But for one so small, I'm not complaining." Harry was about to reply with some scathing remark, when they were interrupted by a sharp, harsh voice.

"Mr. Malfoy," it began. "I sincerely hope you wouldn't be inclined to do something as foolish as antagonizing the one student who happens to have a sword." Professor Seraph had appeared behind the group of Slytherins and she made her way carefully to the door of the weapons room. Aside from carrying the jade and emerald sword that was buckled to her belt, she had the same steel sword she had brought to every lesson thus far. 

"No, Professor," he said sulkily, shooting her a biting look.

Professor Seraph surveyed him for a moment, and then unlocked the door to the weaponry. "Please find a suitable weapon and assemble yourselves in the hall. We will be practicing outside today."

"What?" Hermione whispered to her two friends. "But it's the middle of December. Why are we going outside?" Ron and Harry simply shrugged in response. 

As Professor Seraph led them outside to the extensive courtyard, Hermione and the other students were relieved to discover that for some reason, there was a warm breeze, contrary to the thin sheet of snow that blanketed the ground. After casting protective spells on the student's blades to prevent accidental injury, Professor Seraph instructed them to pair off and practice for a while, while she took single students aside, one at a time, to work on their specific weak points. 

"Hey Potter!" the scathing voice of Draco Malfoy rang out as he approached the threesome of Gryffindors. "I hope you're not too afraid to fight me now that I'm armed, as well."

"Definitely not," Harry replied, as he and Malfoy squared off, leaving Ron and Hermione to practice together. 

Professor Seraph carefully observed her students as they battled together, taking note of certain skills, when her head abruptly snapped to the side, her attention caught by a faint rustling sound, accompanied by a sort of hiss. 

It was impossible to tell who was winning, between Draco and Harry, though Ron and Hermione had soon grown tired, and settled for watching the pair. Suddenly Professor Seraph's voice sounded above the clanging of metal, drawing every student's attention.

"HOLD!" she cried, and Draco took the opportunity to land a blow on Harry's shoulder, while his attention was elsewhere. 

"Ow!" he yelped, as Ron rushed to his defense. 

But professor Seraph did not see them; her gaze was focused at the sky, head twisting from side to side in hope of finding something that, to the students, did not appear to be there. "I know you're there!" she shouted to the silence. "Show yourself!" Suddenly, a large, dark shape fell from the sky, out of the sun's glare, and hurled itself at Professor Seraph. She was ready for this, however, and the jade and emerald sword was instantly in her hand. As the dark creature approached, Harry caught a clear view of it as it pumped its massive, bat like wings. It was roughly taller than a man, covered in black skin, with a powerfully built torso, its wings anchored where its arms should have been. The head was a cross between that of a dragon and a bat, and its hindquarters were strangely reminiscent of a wolf, ending in a long, thin, tail with and arrow like notch at the end. 

The strange creature swerved suddenly, narrowly missing the tip of the professor's blade, but a thin streak of red could be seen on its underside. Professor Seraph suddenly leapt into the air, raven wings sprouting from her shoulder blades, and tail lashing angrily as she swerved through the air in pursuit of the monstrous creature. 

The students below stared, amazed, as they watched their professor streak through the air after the bat creature. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had known about Professor Seraph's ethereal identity, but even they were unprepared for her sudden transformation. There was a collective, awed silence, as the creature flipped over in mid-air, apparently trying to skewer the Angel on it's claws. However, its plans were thwarted as Professor Seraph caught its talons in her own, and plunged her silver sword deep into the monster's chest. The creature gave a desperate howl of pain, and plunged through the air, still clutching at the Angel's sword. The thick, black, form beneath her, and a sudden, almost desperate, flap of her wings cushioned Mavet's fall. "Who sent you?" she yelled angrily at the dying, twitching creature. "Was it him? Did the Dark Prince send you?" There was no answer; whatever it was that had attacked her, it was dead before the Angel had finished her question. Tugging at her sword, she suddenly realized that the point of her blade was embedded in the ground. Planting a clawed foot on the creature's chest, she heaved the sword from its corpse, and wiped the blood off in the snow, before sheathing it in its scabbard. Hesitantly, she turned to face her students, who were collectively quiet with awe, and, quite possibly, fear. The Angel turned to the one student who she knew she could count on to have kept his composure. Said student was at the font of the crowd, rubbing an apparently sore shoulder. "Mr. Potter," she began seriously, in hurried tones. "Go find Professor Snape and tell him to come here at once. Tell him that it is an emergency and I need his assistance."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"Then go to Professor Dumbledore's office and tell him that there has been a breach of security." She continued. "Tell him that a Demon has broken through the defenses."

Love to all my reviewers… and a chocolate-dipped naked Sev to all of you who continue to review!


	10. Shotgun Down the Avalanche

The Mysteries of Death Greetings once again, my beautiful fanfictioners! I'm sorry that there's been such a lapse in my updating but what with school starting again and all… well, you guys can all thank Michelle… she kicked my butt into writing again, (and finally read my entire story) so this chapter is officially dedicated for her! I LOVE YOU MICHY! 

Ahem… now then… A word to my reviewers, and I hope you all like the next part!

**Amy Rose **– Yeah, the blackout sux… or sucked… meh. Scipio was fine, I'll tell him there are some decent snake-loving people out there who care : ) As for wanting to be a vet, great! Go you! I used to want to be a vet too!

**Bookofdays – **QUIET YOU!(heh heh don't worry, you'll find out soon enough!)

Alicorn - What better to dip our sexy Sevvie-poo in than _dark _chocolate! Scipio's good… he just shed again last week… and his birthday was Sep. 9th Yay! He's one now… and he's getting to be a big baby… LOL And YES I want a raptor! You can get me a white-phase gyrfalcon for my birthday… Feb 24th by the way… ; ) heh heh… I like falconer's gloves too… I was at a falconer's farm once and we were flying raptors for the day so I held a red tailed hawk and a golden eagle. SO MUCH FUN! Okay I'll be good now… What lunch do you have second semester? Maybe I'll see you! Chapter Ten: Shotgun Down the Avalanche 

I'm riding shotgun down the avalanche

Tumbling and falling down the avalanche

I love you so much and it's so bizarre

A mystery that goes on and on and on

This is the best thing and the very most hard

And we don't get along

After countless appeals we keep spinning our wheels

On this mountain of new fallen snow

So I let go the catch and we are over the edge

You have left me nowhere to go

Riding Shotgun Down the Avalanche – Shawn Colvin

Needless to say, events at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had become greatly glorified in the wake of the 'Demon Incident' as the students were now referring it to, along with their teachers, who had reluctantly adopted the term. As only Professors McGonagall and Snape, as well as Headmaster Dumbledore, had known about Professor Seraph's true nature, it seemed that now everyone knew, or thought they did, for there was talk of it in every hallway, and every common room throughout the school. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were trying to spread the truth quickly, before it could be drowned out by rumors, lies, and misconceptions, and an extremely informal staff meeting was held in order to correct the views and false information that any teachers may have been circulating. 

When the talk spread at the table, of Mavet's being an Angel, the former Professor Trelawney said, in her most misty voice, "Ah! At last! The spiritual visitor we have been awaiting has arrived! The Fates were all too inclined to tell me last week."

To which Mavet replied, arms crossed, with an air of stoicism, "The Fates are rather obnoxious and thoroughly sadistic beings, and I deeply regret the day that they accurately notify the living of my activities."

Minerva and Severus shared a smirk at this; neither of them had any sort of sympathy or wishes of well being for the fraudulent Sybil who had returned to Hogwarts in desperation, taking up residence, at the generous offer of its Headmaster. 

They were somewhat surprised, however, when Firenze decidedly spoke up. "There have been a series of rather odd clairvoyant messages in the stars lately. Now that we are finally notified of your presence, milady, the patterns that I have seen appear to fit together rather well."

Mavet's expression darkened and she turned her head away at this. "The Fates and I have a rather… problematic… existence. It would surprise me greatly if they in any way alluded to my presence here, being of the nature that it is… They usually only foretell deaths in and of themselves, not the whereabouts of Death." She paused, looking thoughtful for a moment, long-nailed finger to her mouth. Then she faced the centaur again, clearly not intimidated of him whatsoever. "If I were to tell you that Lucifer also had a hand in this affair, would your readings still coincide?"

Firenze thought about this, and then nodded, hesitantly.

"I thought so," Mavet replied, grimly. "My presence and that of Lucifer's often read very similarly. However, the Maiden, foreteller of the future, tends to favor Lucifer among us immortals. Apparently she finds his rebellious nature amusing and often shifts the odds in his favor for the simple reason that he so often works against me."

Finally having put to rest the strange predictions of both parties, Mavet ended the staff meeting by saying that she could not divulge much more than she had already done, with the exception of Severus, who, as her agent, was now privy to the Angel's suspicions on many subjects, including the reasons behind the Demon's attack.

They were quietly discussing the subject, one evening in Mavet's classroom, only to be interrupted not long into their musings. 

"… she has never been one to rely solely on petty rivalries…" Mavet was saying. "No, there is some deeper source to all this unpleasantness…"

"Then why would she bother to alluding to Lucifer's presence in the first place?" Severus wondered. "His plans would be more likely to succeed the longer they went unnoticed, don't you think?"

"Yes," Mavet agreed. "But Firenze hadn't thought of Lucifer in the first place, did he? He was first to assume that mine was the only ethereal presence involved in these dealings at all. The Maiden is well aware that Lucifer's presence is often mistaken for mine. She probably decided that if people were bothering about me, they wouldn't think to look deeper for Lucifer."

Just then, there was an almighty bang, and a ball of fire erupted from Mavet's in-classroom fireplace. Both teachers quickly stood, Severus reaching for his wand, Mavet drawing her sword. 

"Who is it?" Mavet called imperiously into the flames. 

"Just us, Mistress…" called a squeaky, high-pitched voice, which Severus compared closely to the voice of a parrot. 

"Yes, only us…" came a second, identical voice. 

There was an audible cough, and when the flames dissipated, two russet forms appeared, claws scrabbling on the stone floor. The small, rust-red forms belonged to two small dragons, each the size of a housecat, their tails wagging excitedly behind them. Their necks were long and snake-like, their jaws a reptilian version of a raptor's beak. They had a pair of thin, leathery wings, with three claws at the joint, which doubled as forearms. The first one leapt elegantly up to one of the tables, at which Severus and Mavet were currently seated. The second ambled slowly along on the floor, it's elbows bent out, and wings swept back, claws acting as front limbs in much the same way Severus chose to walk when he assumed the form of a bat.

"Severus, meet Phobos and Deimos, two of my underlings."

"A human!" cried Phobos in surprise (or was it Deimos? Severus couldn't tell) as he finally leapt up, perching on the edge of the table beside his twin. "What business have ye with our mistress, human?"

Mavet raised a calming hand, as Severus scowled at the little red dragon. "Severus has become my Lieutenant, Phobos, and must be treated as such." There was a hint of chastisement in her voice.

"Apologies, Mistress," sniffed the creature, as it hung it's reptilian head, and blinked it's yellow eyes.

"Mistress, and Sir," corrected Deimos.

"Well?" asked Mavet, when neither dragon made any further action. "What news do you bring?"

"Ah! Yes, we bring news, Mistress!" said Deimos, snapping back to his duties.

"News from the above!" agreed Phobos, excitedly.

"Yes, what news is this?" Mavet inquired as she leant her head upon her palm. 

"News from Heaven, Milady," continued Deimos. "The Bright One has declared a state of critical hostility amongst the higher ethereal regions. He has sanctioned that any being that leaves the Upper Kingdom will be considered either neutral or unfriendly to the throne in the coming times, and will be denied entry henceforth until these matters are resolved." He grinned proudly, having done his job, and done it well, or so he thought.

"WHAT?" Mavet cried in shock and disbelief, startling both Severus, and the two messengers before her, as she angrily leapt to her feet in outrage. "So they've locked me out? They can't do that! They need my help! I need to speak to the High Council!"

"No, Mistress…" Phobos began tentatively. "You have not been locked out. The declaration was made _after_ you left. If you return to Heaven and then leave again, the sanction will stand, but as of now, your name is still clear."

Mavet calmed down somewhat, but she was still tense with these new developments. She moved to the nearest aisle and began to pace up and down it, head lowered in thought. "I need to speak to the Council…" she muttered, making the mental beginnings of a 'To Do List'.

"Won't you also need to question the Fates, Mistress?" asked Deimos, earnestly. 

"More like interrogate…" Mavet corrected. 

Severus perked up at the thought. He had been exceedingly good at interrogation; the Dark Lord had often used him for such matters during his service. And Dumbledore had always paid close attention to his intuition. 

"Then I will have to go see Naga—"

"Not Naga!" protested Phobos, who was joined, moments later by his brother.

"Naga is horrible!"

"Horrible, indeed! And terrible, and deceptive and scheming, and untrustworthy, and conniving—"

"And wicked, and wretched, and sacrilegious, and improper, and blasphemous!" But Deimos suddenly fell quiet. The two little dragons looked at each other and then back at their mistress, uncomfortable, as if they had said something wrong.

"My, my, you two sure have developed quite the vocabulary in my absence." She peered suspiciously at the pair of them. "You've been spending too much time around Mephistopheles, haven't you?"

"Yes, Mistress…" they both said shamefully with their heads bowed. 

"Why do you need to speak to your council?" Severus asked. "What can they do that you cannot?"

"I need to clear up some of this confusion, and they can grant me more power than I currently have. That's something I need to clear up with the Fates as well." She sighed unhappily. "I need help."

Severus looked at her, astonished. "Help with what?" He was confused, to say the least. Here was the most powerful being he had either heard of or met, thus far, and not only did she just recruit him to her cause, but she also seemed to think that she needed further assistance than that.

"In case you haven't forgotten, my love, Lucifer not only has a _very _powerful sorcerer at his side who is capable of wielding the Black Blade of Death, but he has anywhere from fifty to seventy Death Eaters, all capable wizards well-versed in the dark arts, and by now, he probably has an army of nearly a hundred Demons. I may be an Angel, but so is he, and even if you were as strong as a fully-fledged Halfling, the two of us would not be able to tackle them alone. Not even with the combined help of Albus's followers, could we do this. I need to be granted permission to act – act as I have not done for thousands of years." The last part was said with a mix of regret, and nostalgic awe. She looked away and stared into space for a moment, until she was dragged out of her reverie by the twin dragons, still perched on the table.

"Mistress will be needing help from other Seraphim, yes?" asked Deimos. Severus was beginning to notice that he was the more intuitive of the pair. Phobos was the impulsive one, and simply liked to have fun.

"Yes…" Her finger snapped up to her lip in thought again. "How has Ariel been lately?" she asked slowly.

The dragons looked at each other, then back at their mistress, and shrugged together. "Ariel is…"

"Ariel," they said, again finishing each other's thoughts. 

Severus suddenly glanced at the clock on the classroom wall and noticed that it was later than he'd thought. Truthfully, he'd quite like to stay and delve deeper into the mysterious ethereal happenings that Mavet's two reptilian minions spoke of, (he even thought he was beginning to figure some of them out) but he had a class to teach in fifteen minutes, and he still had to organize ingredients. "I should go," he began calmly, rising from his seat. "I have a class to teach and so do you, if I'm not mistaken. We can finish this later."

Mavet nodded, and took a seat behind her desk as Severus stalked off down the hall. Soon, the stampeding footsteps of students could be heard coming to a crescendo and then ceasing just outside the Defense classroom. "You two can stay here, I assume, since I can think of no better purpose for you at the moment. Just no talking."

"Yes, Mistress," the two reptiles hissed simultaneously. 

"Come in, please!" she called to her students, just past the door. This was the first class she'd had with the sixth-year Gryffindors after the demon incident.

Slightly confused, the students entered and sat down at their seats, Phobos and Deimos scampering over to Mavet's desk as the students approached them, somewhat hesitantly.

Mavet stepped out from behind her massive desk, preferring, instead, to lean against it, facing her class. Phobos, no doubt trying to draw more attention to himself, hopped up onto her shoulder, while Deimos preferred, instead, to curl up happily beside her inkwell. "I suspect most of you are wondering why I called you in here today, rather than have you meet me at the Weaponry." She was met by much nodding and curious faces from her students. "I know that last week's events have been rather… confusing… and I confess that I have been keeping certain things from the student body as well as from some of my fellow staff members. The information that has been traveling around the school is riddled with holes and misconceptions, and I am here to set them straight. What I have been doing with my classes henceforth is something akin to a question and answer session. I will try to answer most of your questions as best as I can, and hopefully this will put an end to the false information that has been terrorizing the halls of this school." She scanned the rows of unblinking children, apparently waiting for a question. She didn't see one. "Perhaps I should start…" she decided with a sigh. "As most of you have doubtless already figured out, I am not human. I am not a witch or wizard of any kind."

"What are you, then?" asked a very forward Dean Thomas, who cringed, a moment later, at his abruptness.

"I was just getting to that, Mr. Thomas," Professor Seraph replied with a kind smile. "Most humans I have met seem not to take this very well… however… as to what I am, I am an Angel; a messenger and special correspondent of Heaven."

Most of the students stared blankly back at her. This was how it had been mostly with the older students. The younger ones would look at her with awe, but the ones who were older… the ones who had stopped believing in children's stories… they looked at her like she was mad. That was the same look she was currently getting from the Gryffindor sixth-years. Everyone except Harry, Ron and Hermione. Mavet chuckled at their reactions. "I'm not that kind of Angel," she laughed. "Nothing at all like those solemn little figures that you characterize us as… the ones clad in white with the little white wings."

"But you do have wings," Dean protested. "We've seen them."

Professor Seraph nodded, and her wings emerged suddenly from her back, spreading to their fullest extent, easily stretching the length of the classroom. Then she folded them, the leading joint arching high above her head, the longest feather brushing the floor. At that, Phobos jumped to the floor, and then back up to the desk to join his twin. 

"But then why aren't your wings white like most Angels?" asked Lavender Brown.

"Why aren't your eyebrows blonde?" countered Mavet with a grin. 

"Because my hair is brown," Lavender replied with utter simplicity.

"Well, my hair is black, and so are my wings," the Angel finalized. "And there are very few Angels who have white wings," she added.

Parvati Patil raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Patil?"

"Well," Parvati began, just as tentatively as hr classmates. "I was wondering… was that thing you fought last week really a Demon?"

Mavet fixed her with a suspicious look; she seemed to be sizing Parvati up, determining whether or not she deserved to hear the answer. "Yes," she said finally, "it was a Demon, summoned here for one reason or other."

"Do you know who summoned it?" Harry asked, fixing Mavet with his most pointed look. He was going to try to get the most out of the Angel, if he could, and now seemed like the perfect opportunity; dodging an answer in front of the rest of the class would seem overly suspicious.

"I have my suspicions," she said, fixing him with just as pointed a gaze. Her tone implied that he knew exactly who she thought had summoned the Demon, and that he should stop trying to be smart. "But we are not here to talk of Demons, and whatnot; I simply wanted to assure you that you have nothing to fear from me. I wanted to tell you the truth." She looked around at the class. "If no one has anything further that they'd like to ask me, then I would like to continue with a little quiz." Groans and moans echoed around the classroom, as the stack of papers magically delivered themselves from the professor's desk to the student's, but Mavet simply grinned as she sat down at her desk, scratching away on a piece of parchment, with a long black quill that happened to be one of her own.

That evening, professor Dumbledore scheduled a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, up in the boardroom that professors Seraph and Snape hadn't been aware of. It was a large room, situated in the upper observatory, just off of Professor Dumbledore's office. The room was obviously a squared off portion of what was otherwise a round, spherical attachment, and the large, rounded outside wall was nothing more than a large window, riddled with steel braces. A long, oval table was situated lengthwise in the middle of the room, deep mahogany, with room to seat at least thirty people. 

Severus was already seated when Mavet arrived, around 10:15, on the left side of Albus Dumbledore, who sat at the table's head. McGonagall was to his right, and Remus Lupin, who sat two seats to Severus's right. The seat directly beside him was empty; evidently, he'd been saving her a seat. 

"My apologies, Albus," she said, as she swept in and seated herself gracefully between Snape and Lupin. "I tried to readjust the time of my departure, but I'm afraid it will have to take place before the Christmas holidays; this is a very fragile matter, and one which requires a great deal of delicacy. The sooner I respond, the kinder the hosts of heaven are likely to be."

Phobos and Deimos rode parrot-like on her shoulders, Deimos jumping to Severus as his mistress lowered herself. 

"May I introduce Mavet Seraph, our resident Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Angelic ambassador of Heaven," said Dumbledore, announcing her to the rest of the group. Of these, Severus noted that Alastor Moody, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Tonks were also present. "Professor Seraph," Dumbledore prompted again. "Might we inquire as to what this little sabbatical of yours entails? I'm still not sure that I grasp all of the details."

"Certainly, Albus." At that, Mavet shifted in her seat and addressed the Order. "There have been certain developments in Heaven since I was last present, some of which prove problematic in my dealings with the mortal problem of Voldemort." There was a collective shudder and murmuring at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. "Voldemort is no longer acting alone. He has joined forces with a rather formidable enemy. The dark Prince, Lucifer is now empowering Voldemort with his power and his forces. Quite frankly, no mortal will be safe unless drastic measures are taken to ensure that Hell is not allowed to, well… freeze over."

"What is being done in Heaven to counteract the progression of the Dark Lord's forces?" asked Mad Eye Moody, from across the table. 

"At the moment, I don't know," Mavet admitted. "Probably planning to wage a war on Hell; a fight that will prove utterly pointless and futile, unless I retrieve the weapon that is empowering Lucifer's forces."

"What does this weapon of his do, anyways?" asked Arthur Weasley from several seats down. 

Mavet hesitated for a moment. Her gaze suddenly flicked back to Severus, and their eyes met for a brief moment, silently agreeing with each other. "I am afraid that I cannot tell you at this moment in time." Mavet didn't look the slightest bit apologetic.

"What do you mean, you can't tell us?" demanded Kingsley Shacklebolt, as he rose from his seat. "If we're going to try to get it back, we at least have the right to know what it does!"

"Who gives you that right?" demanded Severus, as he, too, rose to his feet. "All that is required of you is to retrieve the weapon if you are able to. It is not a necessity that you know what it does, in order to complete this task."

Apparently, Kingsley couldn't match the combined severity of the two black-clad professors. He sat down abruptly, shut his mouth, and turned to meticulously inspect the floor. 

Mavet adjusted her cloak, and joined Severus as he resumed his sitting position, winking at him inconspicuously. "You're such a hypocrite," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

Severus huffed, in exasperation, wearing a look that clearly said 'drop it'. 

Suddenly, both Phobos and Deimos cocked their heads, Deimos's tail, creeping around Severus's neck. 

No sooner, had Mavet opened her mouth to resume her statement, than the door to Professor Dumbledore's boardroom had burst open, and in stormed the stout, yet very angry figure of Cornelius Fudge. He was flanked by two powerfully built wizards, who, Severus assumed, were aurors. Mundungus Fletcher scrambled to the head of the party, looking flustered and extremely apologetic. 

"Dumbledore, they simply stormed in! I tried to stop them, sir, but… but… They threatened me!"

"That's quite alright, Mundungus," Dumbledore assured him, but that was all he could manage before he was interrupted by the rant of the Minister of Magic.

"How dare you continue to hold these secretive meetings behind my back, Dumbledore!" he raged. "What did we talk about?" All of this bullshit about being loyal to the Ministry and our way of life! And for what? And it's not just you that I'm coming down on, Dumbledore," he said, wagging a finger in the headmaster's direction. "All of you," his finger wagged down the line of people sitting at the table, "will pay the same price—"

"Excuse me." Severus stood again, his voice a hissing well of vindictive spite. He stepped threateningly towards the Minister, and the two aurors tensed, expecting an attack. Deimos hissed at the three intruders as well, wriggling his little reptilian tongue at the Minister. The Potions master did no such thing, however, he simply stood his ground and glared menacingly. "How dare you—"

"Severus," Albus warned, and the professor simply glared, refusing to turn away, or glance at his employer; refusing to back down.

"Oh, that's alright, Albus," Fudge continued in mock sweetness. "I'm not afraid of your little Death Eater. Though, you should teach him some respect; he could soon land himself a very cozy cell in Azkaban, if he's not careful." Several people at the table stood, preparing for Severus's defense, Lupin, and the Weasleys included. None were quicker than Mavet, however, who instantly leapt between her agent and his enemy, baring her teeth, and glaring with her mismatched eyes. 

"Severus is a much better person than you, Minister, if you must know! You have no right to criticize his past, unless you would like me to criticize your present."

"And who are you to judge a person?" spat Fudge, as his face turned a deep shade of purple. 

Mavet grinned, taking her time. She inclined her head threateningly, using her height as an advantage as she towered over Fudge. "The only one who has the authority to judge," she said pleasantly. "The Judge of Heaven, Slayer of Souls. I am Mavet Seraph, and you, Minister, should take caution when you threaten a Lieutenant of mine."

"Lieutenant? Dumbledore, what rubbish is this?" Fudge stared questioningly at the thin man, shrouded in robes of violet. 

"You remember the Angel I spoke of."

"You're not serious, Albus! You can't expect me to believe such nonsense."

"Another non-believer, I see," Mavet said dryly as she crossed her arms. "There seem to be many more now than there were a few thousand years ago. You people have no faith." She scanned the line of the table. "In fact, Albus," she continued, "there seem to be many of your own followers who are not convinced of what I am."

"Then why don't you prove us wrong?" instigated Fudge with a sneer.

Mavet sneered right back until, moments later, her face held no physical form. She had become the immense, black, luminous shadow, complete with the six billowing wings and glowing eyes, whose pupils had disappeared. 

Phobos dropped through his mistress, to the floor, hissing, as he had been deprived of his former perch. He scampered up to Severus's other shoulder, somewhat peeved. 

Severus had braced himself, as well as Dumbledore and McGonagall, but, unlike the rest of the people in the room, he now felt no shuddering, disturbing presence. He felt only warmth, and an immense joy when one of her wings accidentally swept through him. It was like being drunk on happiness, he figured. 

The Angel now turned her gaze on the Minister, and a few members of the Order. _As you can see, I speak the truth. It is a rare occasion that I would consciously lie to a human. _Mavet's voice echoed around the room, causing many people to gape in awe. It was not one voice, but thousands, male, female, some didn't even sound human. It wasn't really a sound, either, Severus realized. It was more like a presence, something that seeped into and around your entire being. You would have heard it if you were deaf, blind, mute, and had your fingers in your ears.

Instantly, she was back in her human form, and many people seemed both relieved and thankful at this fact. Mavet herself, however, appeared winded. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and when she next opened them, she swayed dangerously. "Albus, I…" she began, and then she fainted right into Severus's arms. 

Thanks for reading… so now you have to review! I'll keep renting out my chocolate-dipped Sev so long as the reviews keep piling up! C'mon kiddies! I know you wan'em!


	11. The Stone

The Mysteries of Death

WOWOWOWOWOWOWOW! I feel so ashamed to have not updated in so long! *hangs head in shame* I apologize to everyone, and assure you all that my dear Sevvy will no longer disappear randomly for months at a time. (I now have him shackled in my basement, and he won't be goin' nowhere! Also makes for some kinky company ^_^)

And now to my long-neglected reviewers:

Kuroi Neko Nyo: My dear Kuroi! You really must watch what you say in your reviews! Just because you know most of what's gonna happen doesn't mean that you can spew shameless tidbits for other readers to scratch their heads about! And yes, dear, Ariel is all yours, but I advise you to learn some sign language… and quick! As for your yaoi… well, there's a little in this chappy… I expect a big hug from you!

Amy Rose: YAY! I'm glad you liked Phobos and Deimos so much. I had a little too much fun drawing pictures of them in math class and I'm gonna try to post one when I've finished scanning and digitally colouring it. And as to Sirius, well, he makes a little appearance in the next chapter. (more shameless previews… go on, spank the author…)

Chapter Eleven: The Stone 

I've this creeping, suspicion that things here are not as they seem. 

Reassure me, oh why do I feel as if I'm in too deep. 

Now I've been praying, for some way to show them I'm not what they see. 

Yes I have done wrong, but what I did I thought needed be done, I swear. 

Oh, unholy day, if I leave now I might get away. 

Oh but this weighs on me, as heavy as stone and as blue as I go. 

I was just wondering if you'd come along. 

Hold up my head when my head won't hold on. 

I'll do the same if the same's what you want, 

If not I'll go; I will go a long... 

...Long way, ah, from that fool's mistake. 

And now forever pay, no run, I will run and I'll be ok. 

I was just wondering if you'd come along. 

Hold up my head when my head won't hold on. 

I'll do the same if the same's what you want, 

But if not I'll go, I will go a long... 

...Long way, "to bury the" past for I don't want to pay. 

Oh how I wish, this, to turn back the clock and do over again. 

Now I'm just wondering if you'd come along. 

Hold up my head when my head won't hold on. 

I'll do the same if the same's what you want, 

But if not I'll go, I'll go alone. 

I need so, to stay in your arms, see you smile, hold you close. 

And now it weighs on me, as heavy as stone and of bone chilling cold. 

I was just wondering if you'd come along. 

Tell me you will.

—_The Stone_ by Dave Matthews Band

When Mavet next opened her eyes, she was surrounded by light. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, pupils thinning and dilating. When the sleep had been shaken from her, she peered around, greeted by the sights and sounds, or lack thereof, of the Hogwarts hospital wing. She shifted under the standard issue white sheets, and her foot found something warm and heavy.

A low muffled groan issued from the foot of her cot and Severus shifted lazily, peering up at her with a startled expression as he pushed the raven strands off of his face. 

Another sleepy sound, more reminiscent of a growl, issued from the nightstand beside Mavet's bed, where the two russet dragons, Phobos and Deimos were curled up together like a pair of kittens. They snored sleepily, refusing to wake. 

"You're awake," Severus said dully, as though he might still be dreaming.

"Mmm," Mavet issued noncommittally. "It should seem so." She paused and peered at him closely. His clothes seemed quite ruffled, and there were bits of sleep at the corners of his eyes. "You didn't stay all night did you?" she said with a sad, yet disapproving frown.

"All weekend, you mean." Severus grinned sleepily, though his expression had a wicked manner to it. 

Mavet said nothing. Instead, she turned to the two sleeping dragons on the table beside her and roughly poked them awake. Four startled, glowing yellow eyes stared back at her. "What are you doing here?" she asked, startling them more. "Didn't I tell you to watch the Nephilim? You have a job to do. Do it."

The two dragons shrunk beneath her imperious gaze and flitted hurriedly to the door, disappearing with a fiery 'pop', a shy 'yes mistress' on their forked tongues. 

"Is everything all right?" Severus queried. But Mavet remained silent. Her eyes were glazed over and she was staring into the space just beyond the foot of her bed. "Something's wrong, isn't it?" Severus summed up glumly. It wasn't so much a question as a confirmation through Mavet's expression. 

"Something always is," laughed the Angel in a cynical tone. She spoke again before Severus could even ask. "Earth is not solely my domain. Though I preside over it, and keep its inhabitants in check, it is not mine. Lucifer reigns over Hell, a king in his kingdom. To Earth, however, I am more of a regent. I'm not allowed to return to my ethereal form too often when I'm within the mortal realm," she finished, clearly referring to her sudden collapse two days prior. 

Severus stared blankly. "Oh, good, I thought is was worse." His tone was dry and sarcastic as always.

"Oh, you're awake! Wonderful, I thought I heard noise." Poppy Pomfrey rushed over to Mavet's bed, now that she had come through the door, and began busily fussing over the poor professor, much to the irritation, and, admittedly, amusement, of Severus.

"I'm fine, Poppy, really. All I needed was time." Mavet stretched languidly and proceeded to rise from the bed.

"Oh, no you don't!" Pomfrey chastised forcefully. "I'd wager you need about another day's rest before you'll feel well enough to leave the wing. Trust me, I've been doing this for a very long time." At that, she added a very severe look in Severus's direction. A reminder of all the trouble he had given her as a child.

Not at all amused, the Angel leapt energetically from the bed, arcing high over the heads of the other two staff members, somersaulting in mid-air, and landing in a graceful squat before rising to her height. She threw Pomfrey a dirty look and said, "Stop gaping at me Poppy, I've had enough of it already. And it would do you well to admit your limits. Honestly, what do you know about Angel physiology?" Angry and bitter, Mavet stalked from the hospital wing, with a stoic-as-always Severus on her tail.

Mavet stormed frustrated into Severus's rooms after the winding trek from the hospital wing, and threw herself haphazardly onto the deep leather couch. Severus followed seconds after, closing the door behind him. He sunk lazily back to lean against the closed and warded door, and immediately loosed the stream of giggles he'd been capping on the unsuspecting Angel.

Mavet turned and stared at him looking thoroughly worried for his sanity, though annoyed at the same time. "What, pray tell, is so amusing?" she asked in an impersonation of the Potions Master that would warrant an Academy Award. Said Potions Master needed a moment to stifle his laughter before turning to face his accomplice. 

"I will surely remember that moment in times to come; the shocked look on that obsessive witch's face. I don't think anyone's given her such a good telling off in all the years she's been here."

"Hmm." Mavet issued noncommittally, and Severus instantly snapped back to his quiet, inquisitive self. He swept over to the couch and sat opposite Mavet, fixing her with a piercing look. 

Suddenly, she too launched into a fit of laughter, stifling it finally, by crawling into Severus's lap and burying her head in the crook of his neck. Severus took the opportunity to lace his fingers through her ever-silky, intoxicatingly smooth hair.

"I have a confession to make," she said softly, not meeting Severus's gaze. "I hate Heaven."

Needless to say from the Potion Master's shocked expression, this had been most unexpected. 

"Why?" was all Severus could manage to say. 

"I don't know," Mavet admitted. "It's too… too perfect? Not real enough, maybe." A pause. "I think I'm starting to realize why you humans suffer as you do."

"Why is that?"

"You define your entire existence through your pain and displeasure. Everything's 'too good to be true'. You can't accept that a person would do a genuinely good deed out of the goodness of their heart, because you're so completely enthralled in the realness of your suffering." She stood and gazed at him for a moment. "Look at you, Severus, you're so… " 

Severus looked up expectantly. He was what? 

"Bitter," she finished. She looked at him in the most intent way possible, and she smiled. It was a judgeless smile; an Angel's smile. It was devoid of all emotion except the one that mattered most. It made Severus cringe. 

A small whimper left Severus's throat, completely unbidden by its master, and the wizard wrenched his gaze away from the woman before him. A deep sinking void formed in the pit of his stomach and he curled up into himself, shaking. "Don't," he pleaded in a shaky whisper. "Don't look at me like that." He opened his eyes, realizing that he'd closed them, and tasted the salty wetness of tears on his lips. 

"Oh, Severus…" she pressed her lips softly to his cheek. "I have to leave for a while, but I'll be back tomorrow. I promise."

"Alright," he breathed, and she eyed his wand, which lay forgotten on the small table beside the couch, an ominous-looking thing carved from ebony. 

"I may have forgotten to tell you, but you don't really need that anymore." 

With a flash of smoke and a rush of raven's wings, she was gone, disappeared out of the window which Severus had only recently began to leave ajar.

Harry dreamed again that night. He flew silently through the frozen air, never reaching a specific destination, simply floating, reveling in the feeling and not the purpose. Then, suddenly, he was plunged underground, a sharp movement which sent him reeling. Harry woke from his fitful sleep covered in sweat and shaking. He vaguely remembered something dreadful, in which he was submerged in both fire and blood, a feeling that shook his entire being in dread. 

He was slouched over and weary-eyed when Ron and Hermione next found him at their table in the Great Hall the next morning. 

"Bloody Hell, Harry," Ron began. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

Harry grinned lazily. "No, not really. I had another nightmare," he added. It was becoming a normal occurrence. 

"Maybe you should go talk to Professor Snape again." Hermione suggested. "Aren't you supposed to meet him tonight?"

"Yeah." Harry slouched again, and picked at his toast with his fork. "I'm going out to the Quidditch pitch. You guys can come or not… it really doesn't matter." Slowly, he got to his feet and traipsed down the row of tables and out the doors.

Harry wandered slowly down the dirt path that led to the pitch, broomstick in hand, feet scuffling along as if the message from his brain was sent via broken telephone. When he was nearly there, he slid onto his broom and flew the rest of the way, surfing the air, catching the currents and reveling in the wind that tousled through his hair in just the right way.

He swept twice around the stadium, idly taking in the scenery that he had seen but never really noticed countless times before. Would this be his last time perhaps? Or maybe the next? Not for the first time, did Harry come to reflect on the possibility that his days were numbered. He sped up. Winding upwards through the cold morning air, Harry pushed the broom faster, testing its limits. Then suddenly, he banked sharply, streaking downwards, as he left his stomach to catch up. Pulling up just in time, so that his sneakers brushed the tips of the grass on the field, Harry swerved low over the stands, and came to land, breathless, on one of the Gryffindor benches. Suddenly, a sound other than the moaning wind reached his ears and his head snapped over to the Slytherin stands. 

Wing beats pulsed through the air, announcing the arrival of a lithe black form, which streaked towards the young wizard at an alarmingly fast speed. Nearly clipping his head, the dark shape whirled around to face him, flapped its wings slowly, angling them to kill speed, and dropped daintily onto a bench beside him. It was Professor Seraph. 

She flared her wings startlingly before folding them, crating a cape of feathers, her clawed talon feet clicking ominously on the wood. 

"P-Professor!" Harry stammered, from surprise as well as the cold wind. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the very same thing, couldn't I, Potter?"

"It's just Quidditch practice," Harry said sullenly, looking abashed.

Professor Seraph nodded. "Still, you're lucky I wasn't the Dark Lord, or one of his associates. Honestly, could someone be less aware of their surroundings. You hadn't even noticed me until you'd landed, and by then it would have been too late." A moment after her chastisement, Professor Seraph grinned haughtily. "Of course, she continued, "I must also consider the fact that there are maybe two humans alive at this moment who could possibly have detected my whereabouts accurately." She smiled again, and her expression assured Harry that she wasn't really mad at him. He gave her a sheepish look in return before grinning himself. Then he laughed.

"You sound like Professor Snape," he said, amused. "Well, at least the first part," he added after a short consideration.

"Do I?" she asked, amused, and arched an eyebrow in perfect imitation of said professor. Harry grinned again, until Professor Seraph's form grew taller, thinner, and more ominous. Moments later, a fully formed Professor Snape was towering over Harry, grinning maniacally. The only difference, was that Snape's left eye retained Professor Seraph's scar and red iris, a thoroughly creepy effect. Professor Seraph-turned-Snape raised a long, gangly arm experimentally, admiring the long, delicate fingers, the surprising dexterity. Wings flared from behind her, making Snape's form appear more striking.

"I didn't know you could do that," Harry said in awe, gaping dumbly up at his black-shrouded professor. 

"There are a great many things you don't know about me, Harry." Snape's soft, menacing voice crawled shivers up Harry's spine. If he'd thought his Potions master looked intimidating before, Snape with wings was worse. But Professor Seraph's form shifted again, shrinking, and becoming shorter, until they were of a height, and Harry realized that he was staring back at himself. His mouth opened in surprise, as he stared back his winged reflection, complete with the scarred right eye. Professor Seraph reached out and lifted Harry's mouth shut with a finger, and chuckled to herself in a child's voice. 

"That's really creepy," Harry commented, as he listened to his own laugh escape from his professor's lips. 

She simply smiled. "Do me a favor and ask someone next time you're going out alone. I don't want a repeat of the Demon incident. What would have happened if I hadn't been there?"

"Okay," Harry agreed, and Professor Seraph nodded solemnly as she spread her wings and flew off into the morning mist. 

Meanwhile, the real Severus Snape was deep in the dungeons of Hogwarts, sitting stiffly in his high-backed, winged chair in his living room quarters. He was reviewing and revising his lesson plans for the seventh years that afternoon, when he heard wing beats at his window. His head snapped up just in time to see a small winged form slip through the window frame and come tumbling into the room before him. It was a boy, skinny and black-haired, a boy he knew. 

"Potter!" he hissed, and then the realization hit him. Potter didn't have thirty-foot black wings and a red scar over his left eye. "Mavet?" He blinked, astonished. 

"Hello, Severus," she said as she stood and brushed off the red sweater and khakis that her form of Harry was wearing. "What are you up to this early in the morning?"

"It's not that early, Mavet, and what on earth are you doing in Potter's body?" He shifted uncomfortably as Mavet moved towards him. 

"Just having some fun," she replied, as Severus got up to get a book from the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that dominated two thirds of the room. He winced as Mavet spoke. 

"You even sound like him," he said disapprovingly, and he marveled at their new difference in height. Harry wasn't short by any means, but Mavet was quite tall, and Severus even more so. 

"What? You don't like this voice?" she said with mock concern. "How about this one?" She had spoken in a new voice just then, a soft, menacing voice like velvet over steel. Severus blinked and found himself staring straight into a new set of eyes, one red, one ebony, which peered out from a face as pale as parchment; his face. 

"What—" he began, but another mouth had covered his own, and it was rather hard to speak while being kissed. He ran his hands down a lithe, thin form, devoid of curves, and realized that Mavet was probably feeling the same thing. When he pulled away, he was staring back into the face of Mavet, her own true face with the birdlike features, aquiline nose, delicate mouth, and startlingly bright eyes. "Well," he began uncertainly. "That was rather…" he searched for a word. "Narcissistic." 

Mavet laughed. "Narcissus," she taunted as she shoved him playfully into the wall, and flung herself on the couch. 

"I've never seen you as a man," Severus prompted interestedly.

Mavet peered up at him, suddenly serious. "Would you like to?"

"I think so," Severus replied after a moment's consideration. 

"Very well." Mavet rose from her seat and approached Severus again. They were barely a foot apart when she began to change again. Her height remained the same, as did the colour of her eyes and hair, which had become short and jaggedly messy. Her face was slightly androgynous, but decidedly masculine with its sharp jaw and prominent cheekbones. 

Mavet's now curveless body was wiry, and lightly muscled. Like his female counterpart, the male Mavet was all legs, with a lithe torso, and a military swagger. Obviously, Mavet simply didn't care for his male form, taking little consideration in the creation of the plain black muggle clothing – a tank top and loose casual pants – that adorned his sullen form. 

Severus gazed at the slightly shorter man before him, and slowly leant down towards him. Before their lips could meet, however, Mavet twisted his face away from the other man, and quickly reverted back to his female form. 

"What was that?" asked an insulted Severus.

Mavet leant her head against his shoulder apologetically, and mumbled, "You'll thank me later," into the hollow of his throat.

Severus was about to get angry, but thought better of it, and wrapped his arms around her in resignation. His fingers swept repeatedly through her feathers, enthralled with the feel of them. 

"We're leaving in the morning tomorrow," she told him. 

"To where?"

"Back to Stonehenge. It's one of the few portals we Angels use to travel between Heaven and Earth," she explained. 

"You're going back to Heaven?" asked Severus, somewhat surprised. 

"And I'm taking you with me. It's not for long. I just have to set a few things straight. We'll be back within the week. Maybe sooner, if things go well."

Severus simply stared at her. The expression on his face was unreadable, but apparently, Mavet was worrying about other things. 

"Oh, I almost forgot," she said, suddenly irritated. She marched over to the fireplace and bent down to peer inside. "PHOBOS! DEIMOS! COME HERE!"

Instantly the two dragons were spewed out of the fireplace and landed in a heap at her feet. "Didn't I give you two a direct order yesterday?"

"Yes, Mistress, we've been following orders," protested Deimos, while Phobos sulked behind him, wiping the soot off his beaklike snout.

"Then why were you not guarding the Nephilim this morning?"

"Well, um, the female… she thought us rather cute (Phobos cringed at the word) and she sort of dragged us away…"

"I see… Well, make yourselves appear less cute the next time, or else I might just let Naga eat you the next time he sees you." She gave them a final pointed look. "Now go do your job!"

In a flash of sparks the twin dragons disappeared faster than they had arrived, and Mavet hung her head with a tired sigh. She paced the hearth rug and pinched the bridge of her nose, wondering if it was such a good idea to leave the two of them on their own for so long.

"You're having them watch Lucifer?" asked Severus from the couch. He had resumed rifling through several old leather-bound books.

"What?" Mavet turned and blinked drowsily. 

"You said 'Nephilim'. It's a term used for fallen angels, is it not?"

"Oh… yes. Yes, it is." A strange, guarded expression came over her face for a moment, before she sidled over to Severus and simply stared into the flames. 

"Let's leave now."

"What?" Mavet's startled gaze was wrenched away from the fire, meeting Severus's purposeful black eyes. 

"You're obviously anxious about something. And I know that you aren't going to tell me what it is. If we leave now, you'll have less time to worry about whatever it is that's bothering you."

"Very well," Mavet agreed. "Back to Stonehenge, then."

I hope you've all had some slightly erotic fun with all of Mavet's gender-switching… heheh, some shameless yaoi inserted for Kuroi's amusement… LOL I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY!


	12. Sin

The Mysteries of Death Yay! I got this chapter done before my brother's Bar Mitzvah which happens to be on the 22nd of November, so I figured I wouldn't get much time to write during the coming week, and definitely not on the weekend. I have fun, fun plans for the next few chapters, however, so be patient! For those of you who have checked out my posting on Deviant Art, the dragon on the right, with his mouth open is Phobos, and Deimos is the calm, collected one who looks too cute for words! LOL More is on the way, both art and chapter-wise. 

To My Reviewers:

Kuroi Neko: Yes, dear, the slash was an interesting lil' tidbit, now wasn't it? Expect a bit more angst later on with regard to that scene… maybe some more male/male flirting, if I'm in the mood ; )

Amy Rose: Yes, Snape with wings is definitely sexy, but let's face it, he'd be sexy in mud. ; ) Yes, I should do a drawing of that… hmm… inspiration, here I come!

Meresger: Yay! Another Dogma fan! Alan Rickman all the way baby! I must admit, though I loved him as Metatron, you'll find that my Metatron (which, incidently, makes his first appearance in this chapter) is quite a bit different from Alan Rickman's character. But I'm not all out of surprises! Stay tuned for some… 'Dogmatic' surprises!

Chapter Twelve: Sin 

You give me the reason 

You give me control 

I gave you my purity 

My purity you stole 

Did you think I wouldn't recognize this compromise 

Am I just too stupid to realize 

Stale incense old sweat and lies, lies, lies 

It comes down to this 

Your kiss 

Your fist 

And your strain 

It gets under my skin 

Within 

Take in 

The extent of my sin 

You give me the anger 

You give me the nerve 

Carry out the sentence 

I get what I deserve 

I'm just an effigy to be defaced 

To be disgraced 

Your need for me has been replaced 

And if I can't have everything 

Well then just give me a taste 

It comes down to this 

Your kiss 

Your fist 

And your strain 

It gets under my skin 

Within 

Take in 

The extent of my sin

– _Sin_ by Nine Inch Nails

"Let me kill him."

Mavet snatched back the black collar of her colleague as his fingers tensed and he let out a soft growl. She grabbed him in a headlock to prevent any unwanted escapage. "Absolutely not, his time's not up just yet."

"Let me kill him and you can snuff me out of existence. I just want the satisfaction of seeing that poor fool's life drain slowly away."

"Well, well, having a sadistic day, are we?"

"You know it's true. Isn't there some sort of punishment for close-minded ignorance?"

"Not that I'm aware of, sadly," Mavet said as she stared glumly down at the gaggle of people who were quickly surrounding Minister Fudge. 

"Will you let go of me?" Severus glared sullenly up at the pale visage of the Angel of Death. 

She laughed maliciously and only tightened her grip on her struggling accomplice. "Oh, but I much prefer you captive." Her tongue darted quickly over his lower lip. 

"You are insufferable." Severus finally wrenched himself away from the Angel, and peered sulkily over the crevice edge. "It's just some publicity gathering, I assume," he began intelligently. "But of all the places – Stonehenge?" 

"Well, it does have a long history with Britain's mythology."

"I know that!" Severus replied irritably. "It was a rhetorical question."

"You're going to be my distraction," Mavet decided. 

"I what?"

"You're going to fly down there and distract Fudge while I prepare the portal," she explained. 

"I doubt Fudge cares enough to let a little bat bother him." Severus's voice was dripping with sarcasm. 

"What about one with a twenty-five foot wingspan?" Mavet's eyebrows arched coyly. 

"Excuse me?"

"You have Angel blood running through your veins, Severus, growing wings shouldn't be a problem. 

"I'm listening." It was too much to hope that Severus would allow any more of his obvious interest to show. 

"Angel magic is different from wizard magic mainly because it relies solely on the power of intent. Where you wizards draw energy from spells and conductive substances, Angels focus on willpower. This is your magic now, too, Severus. If you will it, it will be so. Simply _will_ yourself to have wings, and you will."

Severus obliged, and closed his eyes in concentration. Slowly, but surely, great long shapes emerged from his shoulder blades, poking hand-sized holes in his cloak. Severus spread his new wings slowly, opening his eyes and twisting his head to get a better view. They were jet black, and nearly as giant and powerful as Mavet's. Their only exception was that they were featherless, and largely resembled those of a dragon, rather than an eagle.

"Incredible," he breathed as he tentatively flexed the new appendages. 

"Oh, and we'll have to do something about those robes. Neither of us is appropriately attired for where we are going."

"If the thought of sheer white robes even crosses your mind, I'll leave you here," Severus said stiffly. 

"Don't worry," Mavet said with mutual disgust, "there will be nothing of the sort." She snapped her fingers and Severus's outer robe disappeared only to be replaced by a new, hooded one of fine black silk, embroidered at the hem and edges with intricate patterns of silver. He looked up to discover that Mavet now wore an identical robe over her leather and sword belt. "Now do me a favor and distract Fudge while I set up the portal." She crept to the edge of the makeshift outpost, then turned back and said, "Oh, and you might want a tail, I find it's rather difficult to fly without a suitable rudder." before she leapt from the edge and circled widely around some minor outcroppings with the eventual intention of landing in the shelter of Stonehenge. Severus decided to take a more direct route. 

"Dragon!" came the screams from below, a chorus of panicked men and women, who were frantically milling about, running this way and that, eyes darting constantly up at the sky. They were disapperating, trying to evade the dark shape that circled high above the minister and his aurors. 

Severus had to admit that his silhouette was probably very easily mistaken for a dragon with the widespread dark wings, and the long tail that whipped out behind him. He gave another deliberate, graceful pump of his wings and swooped lower to come within hailing distance of Fudge, his ministry personnel and any other witches and wizards who had not yet fled. 

"Good day, Minister!" Severus called with sarcasm, and smiled gleefully at the horrid expression on said minister's face as the apparent recognition washed over him. "Might I inquire as to what you presume to be doing at this particular location at this particular time?"

"Snape!" spat Fudge dangerously. "Good lord, what have you done to yourself? Filthy Death Eater scum dabbling in Dark Arts. What sort of sorcery is this?"

"The best kind, I assure you. Now answer my questions."

"How dare you! I would demand that you leave, however I think it would be more profitable if I were to bring you in instead." He nodded to his aurors, but Severus was too quick; he snapped a wing backward through the air and spiraled out of range. Out of the corner of his eye he checked on Mavet and saw that she was aglow with white light and beckoning to him. He whirled around and made another pass over Fudge and his party on his way to the stone formation. 

"Rest assured, Snape," Fudge called again. "I don't care what Albus Dumbledore seems to think of you, I will have you locked away in Azkaban before this war is over!"

"I quiver with fear," Severus drawled as he swooped lazily past Fudge and towards Stonehenge. 

Fudge followed his gaze and spotted Mavet, his face twisting in anger. "Stop them!" he called to his aurors, and they were on their feet and running, though no match for Severus on the wing. 

Said Professor landed daintily beside his glowing counterpart and resumed his human form. Mavet did not speak; she had a look of intense concentration on her face and Severus feared for her to break it with ministry aurors less than fifty yards away. She did offer her hand, however, which Severus took in his own. Lastly, she swiveled her head to stare in the direction of Cornelius Fudge and flashed him a taunting smile accompanied by a snarky wave before she closed her eyes and the pair of them disappeared upwards in a beam of white light. 

The first thing Severus felt seconds later was bliss. Simply bliss and a dazzling onslaught of whiteness that seemed to penetrate every one of his senses. A peaceful haze accompanied the feeling of bliss, and Severus doubted if he could ever be angry again. Sadly, the white light dimmed, and though the world around him was still predominantly white, he could now make out the details and identify the objects that littered this new landscape. Severus stood beside Mavet on a vast featureless plain with white smoke – clouds, he realized – swarming at his feet. There was a collection of thin white pillars, Roman or Greek in architecture, spaced two feet apart in a large circle with a white marble dais at one pole with a plain featureless throne of the same material atop it. 

The remarkable thing was the figure that occupied the throne. Severus's first thought was of Albus Dumbledore, except that this man seemed neither aged in appearance, nor even remotely amiable. He was seated, but was still recognizable as tall, incredibly thin, though with an energy that gave the impression of anything but frailty. He wore simple, yet voluminous white robes that seemed to radiate purity, and his long ivory hair shone with the brilliance of a thousand stars. He had a fierce, angular face with intense colourless eyes that seemed to delve into Severus's very soul. 

And he had wings. Oh, what wings he had, white on white with each feather more perfect than the last. Severus felt sure that, had this Angel angled his wings just right, he could have blinded a person with their luminescence.

"Metatron," Mavet took a step forward and the white-winged Angel turned his attention upon her. She swept herself into an elegant bow, and spread her wings to their fullest extent in a gesture of submission. She rose again and spoke. "I pledge myself ever-loyal to the throne and wish to present my soul bonded lieutenant, Severus –"

"Snape." finished the Metatron as he directed his gaze, once more, to Severus. The white-winged Angel rose from his throne and approached the black-robed professor with careful, calculated steps. Severus did not see his feet as he drew near. The Angel said nothing, yet he peered down into Severus's usually void black eyes, and the professor found himself unable to wrench his gaze away. It was much like being interrogated by the Dark Lord, except that the power of this being before him was much more potent. Severus could tell; he felt it in the air around him. 

It seemed an eternity before the Metatron ceased his scrutiny of Severus's soul, but when he was done, he turned and said quite plainly to Mavet, "And what happens when the life you've taken fades away? I'd imagine that Lucifer would decide to state a claim?" He spoke plainly, yet sternly and with the voices of thousands. Together they flowed like the howling of a violent wind, neither male, nor female, human or not. 

Mavet couldn't seem to find an intelligent answer to the white Angel's query, but she seemed determined nonetheless. "I do not have an answer, Metatron, but I will find one."

"Very well, Mavet. But I would hate for you to lose such a precious soul."

"Thank you, Metatron."

The Metatron nodded. "It is good of you to visit. I will miss you when you leave."

Mavet bowed again, and Severus followed suit, before following her to the opposite end of the circle, beyond the white pillars, where Severus discovered there were stairs leading to a sort of city. It seemed that everywhere he looked, all there was to be seen was the everlasting white of the cloud-like floor. 

"What was all that about?" Severus whispered, not wanting to be overheard by the Metatron. 

"I'll explain later," said Mavet tersely. "You should put your hood up, I don't particularly care to speak to anyone at the moment, and if our hoods are down it is considered an open invitation."

Severus followed Mavet's instructions and trailed closely behind her as she descended into the Angel metropolis of Heaven. It was more like an open marketplace, Severus decided, or a village. Angels with features of every sort, and wings of every colour populated the city with its simple, open dwellings and streets defined only by where they couldn't possibly lead. 

Strangely enough, or perhaps he should have expected this, the crowd parted for them wherever they went, and Angels and humans stopped to stare more at Mavet, with her folded ebon wings, than at Severus himself, though he was suddenly thankful for the black silken hood that kept his face in shadow. 

The further thy traveled out from the Metatron's central sanctuary, the more the featureless plane of Heaven grew less featureless. Here and there, trees sprung up from the ground and Severus even felt the familiar crunch o grass beneath his feet. Soon they were out of the marketplace and people became more scattered. They clumped together on benches in makeshift parks, several people or a few, talking and laughing or simply sleeping, as the case happened to be. 

"Lady Death?" a tentative voice spoke suddenly as they passed another group, and Mavet's head snapped over to peer in the direction the voice had come from. She lowered her hood and a smile came across her face as she approached a pretty redheaded woman with vibrant green eyes. Lily Potter, Severus came to realize with a suppressed gasp. He decided to keep his hood down. 

Severus followed Mavet to stand before a congregation of four people seated on four chairs surrounding a café type table like many others that were scattered here and there in bunches. Lily retook her seat between two people whom Severus recognized instantly – Sirius Black and James Potter. Mavet simply stood and surveyed the group. 

"Ah, Godric, I should have known," she said to the fourth person, a man with red-brown hair, solidly built, and cloaked in red and gold with amber eyes. 

"Don't criticize me for preferring the company of my own house, Death. As I've heard, you haven't had company for some time now, so you shouldn't be one to judge."

"It's my prerogative to judge, Gryffindor, and I'm starting to regret my choice regarding you. My only consolation is that I don't travel up here often enough for you to bother me."

Severus allowed himself a small grin beneath his hood. He regretted to admit that he enjoyed the sight of Mavet putting the famous Godric Gryffindor in his place. 

"Please, please, let's not fight," Lily began, raising her arms in a gesture of peace. "Godric, don't start. Lady Death, would you care to join us? How's Harry doing? And why don't you introduce your companion?"

Severus cringed in annoyance under his cloak. He really did not want to have to be in the company of these people, let alone speak with them. But he lowered his hood, nonetheless, when Mavet gestured to him, saying, "I believe you already know Severus."

"Severus!" Lily gasped in shock. 

"Snape?" asked both James and Sirius in slightly disbelieving tones. 

"Severus Snape, meet Godric Gryffindor," Mavet said with a careless wave, and Severus nodded silently to the group. 

With a wave of her hand, Mavet conjured two gothic looking bar stools and she and Severus joined the four around their little table. 

"Another Slytherin, Death." Godric 'tsked'. "You're getting predictable in your bad taste of souls."

"If you're referring to Salazar—"

"I am," Godric interrupted. "How's he doing? I haven't heard from him lately."

"How dare you! I should have sent you to Hell," Mavet hissed.

"Yes, you have interesting connections to Hell, don't you?" Godric asked, grinning with glee.

"But, Severus," Lily continued, trying to diffuse the argument. She laid a hand on his arm, causing him to flinch. "You, I mean, you're not dead… are you?"

"No," Severus began resentfully. "But nor am I alive."

"Well, you never were, really," said James with a laugh.

"Excuse me for trying to _do_ something with my life." Severus retorted, defending his interest in academics. 

"What, like becoming a Death Eater?" Sirius shot back."

Severus smiled coldly and said, "Well, at least it's better than rotting in Azkaban for twelve years."

Sirius glared. He looked like he was about to pounce on Severus, but Lily grabbed him and kept him in his seat. "Can the three of you please stop it?" she said angrily. "Honestly, are you teenagers or grown men?" She sighed heavily, and turned again, to Mavet. "Have you seen Harry? How's he doing?"

"Insufferable brat," Severus muttered quickly. 

"He is not, Severus," Mavet said sharply, nudging him hard with her wing. There was a downcast look on her face when she next looked at Lily and James. "I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest with you about your son."

There was a pregnant pause in which Lily and James exchanged worrisome looks. Lily eventually turned back to the Angel and said, with much trepidation, "Go on…"

"There is more to why Voldemort went after Harry than him simply being your son. He was ordered to."

Severus's eyebrows arched in confusion and interest, as he witnessed the scene before him. There was much Mavet had kept from him, he realized.

"Ordered? But that's nonsense! Who could possibly order Voldemort to do anything?" asked a shocked James.

"Lucifer did. He promised Voldemort a weapon of great power if he killed Harry. Though things seem to have worked out better than Lucifer anticipated. He's found a new use for him. One which requires Harry to still be alive."

James looked crestfallen. Lily simply stared. The she shook her head in agitation, clearing her head. "What – I don't understand. How can Lucifer possibly _use_ Harry? He's just a boy!"

Mavet closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She whispered softly to herself, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," and then met Lily's now horrified gaze. "He's a Nephilim, Lily." Mavet looked like that had been the hardest thing for her to say. 

Lily gasped and held a hand to her mouth. James and Sirius simply stared. Godric looked like a particularly offensive word had been uttered. 

"Harry is part Angel," Mavet continued. "His soul is a melding of mine… and Salazar Slytherin. His existence is an everlasting blemish on my soul."

Hi kids! Princess Nekita here! Stay tuned for updates within the next two-three weeks, cuz the next week's pretty much shot. I can't wait to here from old reviewers and new, so give me a shout and tell me what you think!


	13. Fallen

The Mysteries of Death

Hello everyone! I apologize for not updating for so long, but apparently, my muse has snuck out of my basement. I've been so uninspired, and I knew that if I went ahead and wrote the next chapter when I really had no desire to write, then it would end up being crap and you people would have no desire to read it. Its also been vary hectic for me lately because of the switch between semesters, and exams, and I was REALLY, REALLY sick for a week.

So here's my latest baby, it's extra long, so please be nice, and leave a review.

Chapter Thirteen: Fallen 

Heaven bent to take my hand 

And lead me through the fire 

Be the long awaited answer 

To a long and painful fight 

Truth be told I've tried my best 

But somewhere along the way 

I got caught up in all there was to offer 

And the cost was so much more than I could bear 

Though I've tried, I've fallen... 

I have sunk so low 

I have messed up 

Better I should know 

So don't come round here 

And tell me I told you so... 

We all begin with good intent 

Love was raw and young 

We believed that we could change ourselves 

The past could be undone 

But we carry on our backs the burden 

Time always reveals 

The lonely light of morning 

The wound that would not heal 

It's the bitter taste of losing everything 

That I have held so dear. 

I've fallen... 

I have sunk so low 

I have messed up 

Better I should know 

So don't come round here 

And tell me I told you so... 

Heaven bent to take my hand 

Nowhere left to turn 

I'm lost to those I thought were friends 

To everyone I know 

Oh they turned their heads embarrassed 

Pretend that they don't see 

But it's one missed step 

You'll slip before you know it 

And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed 

Though I've tried, I've fallen... 

I have sunk so low 

I have messed up 

Better I should know 

So don't come round here 

And tell me I told you so...

-_Fallen_ by Sarah McLachlan

"Impossible!" James shrieked, as he got to his feet and began to pace back and forth. "It's not true."

"To my everlasting shame, I assure you, it is." Mavet gazed seemingly indifferent through the middle of the table, but Severus could see the pain in her eyes.

"Why do you say these things as if you are ashamed of them?" Sirius countered. "Harry is a wonderful child, and you act like he was a mistake!"

"I am in exile, Black, exile!" Mavet hissed menacingly. "Do you want to know why? It is because of the Nephilim." Mavet was in a rage now, there was fury in her gaze and tears streaking down her face, as she retold memories of countless centuries ago. "I was ordered to exterminate them, and I refused. I refused a command from the Holy Light Itself, and they very nearly damned me to Hell."

"Ah, and now you claim that this was Salazar's fault," Godric said with a righteous grin. "I've always maintained that Slytherins were bad eggs, but you took care of him, now didn't you?"

In a flash, Mavet had jumped to her feet, and Severus was seriously debating whether or not to hold her back. 

"You vile creature!"

"Stop! Just stop." Lily had taken control of the situation again, and grabbed the Angel's arm, fixing her with a pleading look before any damage could occur.

"I don't have time for this," Mavet said angrily as she shook herself free. "We have to hurry, Severus, we have less than twenty-four hours before the Thrones will be allowed to act."

"I'm coming with you," Lily said at once.

Mavet looked to be considering the matter. "I cannot bring you to Earth, you understand."

"Yes, I know," said the redhead, "but I have more to talk about with you, Milady. Both of you," she added with a pointed look at Severus.

"Very well then," Mavet allowed, "But you must be able to keep up with us on your own. I don't have much time."

Lily nodded and summoned a broom to her side. Where the broom had come from, Severus could not tell, but it seemed to him that the laws of physics were quite a bit more abstract up here than they were back on Earth. 

Two of the three figures spread their wings gracefully as the three of them leapt into the air. Lily hovered for a moment, and turned back to James. "I'll be back soon," she said consolingly, and then turned to catch up with Severus and Mavet.

Severus, for one, found it easier to travel through the air in Heaven, than on Earth. Another part of the strange physicality of the ethereal realms, he assumed. He traveled farther and could propel himself more forcefully, he discovered, wing beat for wing beat. "You've been keeping quite a bit from me, Angel," he said quite forcefully, and Mavet frowned. "Why didn't you tell me about the Potter boy?"

"Because you just referred to him as 'the Potter boy'!" Mavet yelled angrily. "Honestly, Severus, what would you have done if I had told you? What would have been different? You would have been just as angry earlier as you are now, I assure you."

"I would have torn him limb from limb," Severus muttered viciously to himself. 

"Excuse me? You would have what?" Severus had forgotten that Lily was merely two wing beats behind him. 

"I would have murdered that brat of a son of yours in cold blood," replied the Potions Master without missing a beat. There was just enough sarcasm in his voice, however, that Lily decided to drop the matter altogether. 

"He would have killed you, Severus, had you even tried," Mavet muttered under her breath, but her words were only for herself.

"And you never told me exactly what we came here for," Severus continued to Mavet. "I know you needed to return in order to heal, or recharge, or whatever it is that you Angels do, but aside from that I'm still in the dark, so you might want to shed some light on the many subjects that you've managed to conveniently forget."

Mavet turned her head briefly to give Severus a dry, cynical stare, and then reverted her gaze to the white horizon as she began to speak. 

"Angel society is run in a very militaristic sort of way. Everyone has a rank, and a position, and a job to carry out. We also like to dress to our status. The Metatron, who you met earlier, is the highest of the Hosts of Heaven. He wears white, and only white, and he is the only one with whom the Source communicates with."

"The Source?"

"God, the Heavenly Father, the King of Kings. whatever it is that you choose to call. It. Anyway, beneath the Metatron are four-generals, I guess you could call them-we call them princes. These are the Seraphim, the highest of the Angelic Choirs. The four of us, myself included, preside over the elements and make sure that they are at all times balanced. I am the Regent of Fire, but aside from that, I am the Angel of Death, and Captain of the Powers."

"And what is it that these Powers do?"

"They are a sort of ethereal law enforcement. A brigade of Aurors, if you will. Their Choir ranks just below the Thrones, which are the guards and servants of the Metatron. The Thrones police Heaven, mostly, while my Powers tend to the. lesser regions such as Earth and Hell.

"Then below them are the Virtues, a Choir that deals with Dogmatic Law, and below them, the Archangels and the Grigori. The Archangels act as messengers and soldiers. The Grigori are the lowest rank of Angel, often called Watchers. I doubt that requires further clarification," she smirked, remembering the simple, yet occasionally obsessive nature of the Watchers.

"I see," Severus replied dryly. "And the rest of these Angels insist on wearing white?"

"Ivory, not white," Mavet corrected. "Only the Metatron wears true white. And it is only the Archangels and Grigori whom you saw in the village of Heaven. The Thrones wear golden armor, and the Powers wear silver."

"And who are you going to meet?" asked Lily from her broom. 

"The remaining Seraphim, hopefully. I need enough support from the higher ranking Angels so that I can recruit an army."

"Ah, so you're going to pit your army of Angels against Lucifer's Demons of Hell," Severus surmised. Then a thoughtful expression crossed his face. "One on one, who would win, an Angel or a Demon?"

"It depends on the rank of the Angel. No lone Demon could ever hope to survive an encounter with a Seraphim, while a Grigori would be just slightly more equipped for escape than a human muggle. About the same as if a Demon attacked one of you wizards."

"Ah."

"Mmm. The ocean," Lily murmured. "I haven't been out here in a while."

Indeed, the ocean was now visible on the horizon, and it was not long before it occupied most of Severus's field of vision. He wondered if this was the only ocean in Heaven, or if it connected to the physical realm of Earth in some way. 

The three travelers skimmed the shoreline for a short while, until they spotted two antlike figures, and a disturbance of sorts within the rippling shallows of the sea. 

Severus landed heavily, having not had time to properly acquaint himself with Mavet's graceful in-flight habits. The Angel flared her wings elegantly, allowing observers to marvel at their size and effortless power, and fell to the sand with a soft crunch, landing spring-like on her talons. Lily calmly held her broom at her side as Mavet approached the two strangers. One was tall, taller even than Severus, with clear blue eyes and short white hair, though his face had a boyish quality to it. He was dressed much like a casual aristocrat of the 1800s, with a loose and billowy white shirt, and tight brown trousers, with chocolate leather boots that belted up to his knees. 

The second stranger was perhaps the shortest of all of them, with the exception of Lily, and was dressed in a much more current fashion. He wore a loose scarlet tank top and black cargo pants, much akin to the current muggle casual-wear, except that he had a katana buckled at his side. His face was angular and stern, with watchful tawny eyes, and his hair was long, more vibrantly red than Lily's, tied up in a ponytail with several loose pieces falling around his face. 

Both strangers were Angels, Severus noted, easily identifiable by their great white, and red wings, respectively. Mavet approached them with a quick bow directed mostly towards the white-winged Angel. 

"Greetings, Ariel, Mephistopheles. I assume that you know why I am here."

"Oh, of course, how could we not?" spoke the red-winged Angel, Mephistopheles, with disdain. Severus found it odd that while Mavet spoke with a British accent, Mephistopheles sounded American. He wondered if this was a matter of preference or not. "I suppose you are the single most watched individual among the Grigori, and they talk of nearly nothing else." Mephistopheles grimaced, annoyed. "Personally, I would love to accompany you to Earth simply to get away from those scum, but you know I would anyway, out of loyalty."

He crossed his left arm over the right side of his chest, and bowed deeply to her, spreading his magnificent fiery wings. 

"Thank you, Meph."

Mephistopheles looked affronted at the nickname. "What have I told you about calling me that?" he sniffed. 

Mavet merely grinned, and then turned to Ariel. "What do you say, old friend? I especially need your help with this mess."

Ariel tilted his head in consideration, but then a new voice spoke from behind them. 

"I advise you to think wisely before pledging your allegiance to the Exile, Prince of Air."

There was a bubbling, rippling disturbance in the sea and a long, giant shape broke the surface, arcing high over even Ariel's head. 

Severus's first thought was that of a sea serpent, for that was exactly where the new voice had come from; the giant blue sea monster, more like a snake than a fish, raised its scaly head with visible banana-sized teeth, and peered at the visitors on its shore with wide, yellow eyes.

"Leviathan," spoke Mavet dimly, and the sea serpent lowered its great head to the black-winged Angel, puffing a great cloud of steamy breath from its nostrils. 

"How dare you pollute my beach with your presence, Exile. Be gone at once." The great voice of the sea serpent was more attuned to a smooth, eloquent melody, than the hissing or rumbling of a reptile. 

"I have been granted sanctuary by the Metatron himself, Leviathan, and I have business to conduct that must take place within a twenty-four hour span. I will not leave until it has been resolved."

The great monster seemed to consider, and then sigh, with another expulsion of breath. "Very well, then, but make it quick, Death. I would like to point out, however, that I condone none of your business whatsoever." This was said mostly to the other two Angels standing on the banks. The great monster reared its head and seemed to shrink, its glowing form shifting to that of a winged woman of stocky build, who was just shorter than Mavet. Her long, wavy hair was a pale cerulean, as were her wings, and her eyes were like ice. She was clothed more to the expectations of Severus, in a long, white robe with the consistency of a muggle nightgown that just barely touched the froth of the waves as she stepped, barefoot, upon the shore.

Leviathan sat herself daintily upon a large moss-covered rock, crossed her legs and looked pointedly at Ariel, awaiting his decision just as eagerly as Mavet. Mephistopheles, however, simply glared at her and swiveled around to face her, bringing him side by side with Mavet.

"Why are you always so difficult? You've hardly done anything but swim around in your bloody ocean, so who are you to criticize? You blame Mavet, but none of this is truly her fault."

Leviathan looked affronted. Apparently she wasn't used to being spoken to in a manner such as this. "How dare you, Archangel! I am a Seraphim, and my position demands respect! As for the Exile, if she hadn't split, then maybe we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Maybe." Mephistopheles continued, seemingly oblivious to Leviathan's rank. "Or maybe we'd all be serving a throne born of mutiny in a fire-blazing Hell. So excuse me for liking the way things turned out." Mephistopheles' voice was dripping with sarcasm, and his tone had dropped to an angry hiss. Severus liked him already. 

Mephistopheles crossed his arms, and looked expectantly at Ariel, who seemed torn between siding with Leviathan or Mavet. He cast an apologetic look towards the Regent of Water, sensing what it was that he had to do. The white-winged Prince of Air pressed the palms of his hands together solemnly, spread his wings, and dipped his head towards Death. 

Mavet was about to thank him, but Leviathan was quicker. "Very well, then," she huffed, "I trust you'll remember my advice when the world ends and the three of you are left sitting outside the gates." And with that she stood, flipped the hem of her gown, finlike, as she turned, and disappeared into the frothing, ebbing sea, from whence she came.

"Always wasting time, that one." Mephistopheles said, staring out to sea after her. "How long have you been here anyways?" he said, turning back to Mavet. 

She thought for a moment, and considered. "An hour and a half, maybe two."

Mephistopheles seemed satisfied with this answer, and glanced quickly at Mavet's sword belt. "Where's the Blade of Fire?"

"Lucifer has it," replied Mavet glumly. "And I didn't tell Leviathan about the Blade of Water because there's still a chance it could be useful."

Mephistopheles looked confused for a moment, until he noticed the silver hilt barely visible beneath Severus's outer robe.

"And this is yours, Ariel," she continued as she undid the buckle at her hip and tossed the white Angel his weapon. Before he could acknowledge his thanks, however, he noticed something peculiar upon the horizon, and grabbed Mephistopheles' shoulder in hopes of alerting him to the sight. Within a moment, the five figures on the beach had turned to face the East, where several glinting shapes grew steadily larger. They were Angels in flight, and they numbered eighteen. 

"The Thrones," Mephistopheles murmured angrily, followed by something unintelligible other than the fact that it was probably vulgar in nature.

"They can't touch me for another twenty hours at least," Mavet reasoned aloud, wondering why they could be headed towards her. 

"Yes, well, Michael has become something of a vigilante while you've been away," Mephistopheles muttered dryly. 

Within several minutes, Severus could make out the individual feathers on each Angel's wing as they came swooping in over the heads of the five on the beach. They circled for a moment, and landed in formation as a semi-circle, cutting off the possibility of escape in every direction save the sea. The majority of the choir of the Thrones had brown to sand coloured hair, though there were several pairs of dark blonde wings. They wore golden armor across their chests, elaborate, yet identical swords at their waists, and golden, winged helmets that reminded Severus of ancient Rome. Strangely enough, something about their present situation reminded the professor of a Death Eater's circle. Maybe it was the way that the Throne's helmets hid everything but their eyes, which burned fiercely through slits in their visors. 

Then the leader of the group, a solidly-built muscular angel with amber-gold wings stepped forward and removed his helmet. His face was strong and square, like it had been chiseled from stone, and his eyes were a more luminescent shade of ochre. His gaze drifted suspiciously over the group, and then immediately shifted back to Mavet.

"Exile," he growled in a deep angry voice, tucking his helmet under his arm. 

"I have been granted sanctuary by the Metatron himself, Michael," said Mavet slowly and calmly. "You may not harm me for another twenty hours at least.

The captain of the Thrones sneered, and rested his free hand lazily on the hilt of his golden sword. "The Metatron has been doing many things that he ought not to, as of late."

"According to whom?" Mavet countered.

Michael tried to remain calm, but his features didn't seem to be hiding it so well. "You and your human will come with me, Exile. I do not guarantee the compliance of my Thrones should you choose otherwise." 

At that, the rustling of metal could be heard as the golden-clad Angels fingered their weapons. 

"Is that a promise?" asked Mavet snarkily as she raised her hackles so that she was now almost as tall as Ariel, and leant in close enough to Michael to feel his breath on her face. 

_Bat, ten seconds._ Ordered a voice in Severus's head, and he noticed that Mavet had begun the deliberate flicking of her tail. Mephistopheles had noticed as well, and for a second, his sienna rust eyes met with Severus's inky black, before returning to mock obliviousness. 

. nine. ten. WHAM! Mavet had moved before Severus could fire even a single neuron, and she was latched onto Severus's arm, pumping her magnificent wings, carrying them higher and higher. But Severus had already begun the change, and as he shrunk and twisted and reformed, he observed Mephistopheles and Ariel in a desperate attempt to fend off the oncoming Thrones. Lily had quickly made herself sparse, though there was no way she could keep up with Mavet at her impossible speed, several Thrones nearly clipping her broom as they swerved past after Death. 

Severus was all bat now, his little claws holding tight to Mavet's collar as the heavenly wind whipped past them. _Where are you going?_

_My fortress in the Void._

Severus gave a little mental 'ah' but said nothing more. He peeked over the Angel's shoulder and was able to make out three of the Thrones, through the steady beating of black wings and undulating black hair. He was pretty sure that Michael was not among them. _You may want to pick up the pace, _he warned her. _You've got three of those idiots behind you._ A sudden thought occurred to him. _How do you kill an Angel?_

_You don't. _Mavet's answer was grim.

Severus glanced once more behind them, and noticed that the three Thrones were catching up. Strangely enough, he was able to put together the reasoning that because Mavet was a Seraph, and was built more efficiently that other Angels he'd seen, she should be able to out fly them no problem. How he had come to realize this, Severus did not know, but apparently he was thinking too loudly because Mavet began to answer an unasked question.

_Its because I'm carrying you. That's what's slowing me down. Spirits have a sort of mass in the ethereal realms, regardless of what physical shape they take. We're almost there, _she added, as if this would cheer Severus up.

In a split second Mavet flipped over to glance backwards at their pursuers, and made an executive decision by diving backwards into the bristling forest canopy below. Catching a thick branch in her hand, she hung there for a moment before dropping to the forest floor. The Thrones followed, and Mavet took off through the undergrowth, however, on foot she was much more speedy and agile than they were, extra spirit or not. Up and down, twisting and forward, she darted, a gymnast aided by her dexterous talons. Her wings were gone now, disappeared into the flesh of her back, they would only hinder her here. Severus could no longer see the Thrones behind them as the forest began to blacken and thin, the environment fluctuating around them as Mavet traveled.

She stopped suddenly, at the edge of a clearing, drawing her remaining broadsword (the silver one with the emerald hilt) as a precaution as she scanned the scenery. In the centre of the clearing was perfectly circular pool, but it looked more like molten lead than actual water. Nevertheless, Mavet began to stride carefully towards it. 

Severus still clung tightly to Mavet's neck, and when his highly sensitive bat ears twitched suddenly, there was not enough time to warn her before one of the gold-adorned Angels sprung at her from the foliage.

In a flash, Mavet's sword was drawn, flashing like quicksilver against the gold of the other Angel's sword, and moving faster than its physical right should have allowed. With a lunge and a sharp 'clang' Mavet sent the poor Throne flying. He crashed into the trunk of a large tree and slid to the floor, but was up and running only seconds later. Mavet had just enough time to sheath her sword and dive swan-like into the rippling pool, feeling something just graze her ankle before she disappeared.

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	14. Last One Alive

The Mysteries of Death

Wow. I'm feelin' a little guilty for not having updated for so long, but I blame it all on lil' Sevvie-poo (my muse) for failing to inspire me. Plus I had this one scene running through my head that is a little later on in the story, and I had a shit load of school work to do and… well… other stuff too… **sigh**.

Meh. It's good to be back!

Chapter Fourteen: Last One Alive 

There's a place not that far from here

Where people go when their dreams have died

As I walk from its faceless streets

I must be the last one alive

Where are you?

You're not with me

Numb my mind with this fantasy

Watching people live and die on screen

Where are you?

You're not with me

Where are you?

I'm free

— _Last One Alive _by Vast

Severus woke as if from a dream, the edges of his vision blurred into darkness, as his eyes adjusted and he realized that it wasn't just him; the cavernous room they were in _was_ dark. Mavet had fallen into the most striking, luxurious, throne room (there was no other word for it, even though he wasn't sure if it even served that purpose in the first place) that the wizard had ever beheld. The floor was made of black marble, which had intricate streaks of silver running through it, and the walls looked like they had been coated in hematite. A strange purplish-black light rayed in from above, creating the illusion of perpetual twilight.

Mavet heaved a sigh of relief, and Severus dislodged himself from her collar, fluttered to the floor, and resumed his human form. As he did, however, he noticed a small brown form, which rustled just past his robes and smacked nose-first into Mavet's reptilian ankle. The Angel turned to investigate and, at the sight of the creature, smiled and bent to pick it up. The small rodent-like animal waddled efficiently through Mavet's grasp, causing her to bend awkwardly, nearly falling on her face.

"Uriel! You little rat! Come back here."

The small, spine-covered rodent turned back to face her, and immediately transformed into yet another Angel. This one had decided to take a female form, and had deep, olive-tanned skin. Her eyes were chocolate brown, as was her short, messy hair, which was spiked, and tipped with creamy blonde. Her wings bore the same appearance.

At once, she launched herself at Mavet, throwing her arms around the dark Angel's neck, and buried her head in the crook of Mavet's neck. "You're back! You're back! Why didn't you tell me? You stupid, stupid, bird-brained idiot! How did you ever get past the Metatron?" Mavet struggled to calm the wildly questioning Uriel, and finally dislodged her from her neck, ending with both of Uriel's hands clasped in her own.

"You pulled yourself into my realm, Uriel, you little rat. I could have you punished for that," Mavet hissed, somewhat amused.

Uriel decided to call Mavet's bluff. "Hedgehog, birdbrain, hedgehog, not rat. Now why don't you tell me what's going on? And who's your human friend?" she asked motioning towards Severus with a flick of her wing.

"Uriel, meet Severus, my Lieutenant. Severus, meet Uriel, Prince of Earth. Uriel flashed Severus a suggestive grin, while Severus simply glared at her, and Mavet continued. "As to what's going on, I hardly think I must say more than 'Lucifer'." Uriel looked grave, and Mavet slowly released her, giving the shorter, and somewhat younger-looking Angel a quick glance. "You know, I think the Metatron might find that offensive," she quipped, noting Uriel's khakis and tank top that were covered in green and brown army camouflage colours. At that, Uriel grinned and began giggling as if she behaved as well as appeared like she was merely seventeen.

"It's a good thing I haven't run into him lately, then." Then on a more serious note, "What can I do?"

Mavet sighed heavily. "You can return to Heaven and notify Ariel, Mephistopheles, and a human named Lilly Potter that I will meet them in a while at the Metatron's palace. If you run into Michael, you can kick him for me, but do not tell him where I am. Understood?"

"Undoubtedly." Uriel grinned at Mavet, winked at Severus, and with a flap of her wings, she was gone.

"Angels can apparate?" asked Severus.

"Not from realms that are not their own," Mavet said with a smirk. "The only way to enter or leave the Void is the means through which we came." Se motioned behind them, and Severus turned to stare up at a giant silver hourglass within which, swirled strange black sand that seemed not to be bound by the laws of gravity. Situated at the center of the bulbs, and slowing the rate at which the sand flowed between them, was a swirling sphere of black gas that may or may not have concealed a muggle light bulb. "Touch the top bulb and you will be transported back to the Metatron's palace in Heaven. The bottom bulb will send you to Hell, and to Lucifer, while touching the orb between the two will put you back at Stonehenge."

"Ah. And why are we to meet the others back in Heaven? Why not go straight to Earth when we are done."

"Because that may or may not be considered an act of rudeness or hostility on our part, and I would prefer not to have to fight both sides of the spiritual realm if I can avoid it."

"Mmm… Good reason," Severus muttered to himself.

Mavet led the way to the back of the room, where twin staircases swerved their way up to a second smaller level, which seemed to be empty save for a large tree which was situated at the very center, it's roots spiraling through the marble floor, seemingly not in need of any sustenance whatsoever. The tree was beautiful, and seemed to glow in alternating patterns of gold and silver, the green leaves and their fruit made of brightly coloured gems.

Severus stared at the tree, entranced. It seemed to call to him, pull him. He would have asked Mavet as to exactly what it was, except that she caught his wrist moments later, carefully positioning herself between him and the tree. Severus blinked, and saw that his hand was mere inches from one of the glassy, orb-like pieces of fruit that dangled, glistening, beckoning.

"What—" but Mavet cut him off angrily.

"Don't even think about it," she warned.

"I did nothing!" Severus protested, as he wrenched his hand away. "What is that?"

Mavet gave a cynical laugh. "Nothing except the tree of everlasting life."

Severus blinked. "Ah." He made a mental note to resist all further temptations of the tree. Eternal life was not something he desperately wanted, to be stuck with anyway. Severus considered it a curse. At least with Mavet he had a choice.

From behind Mavet, however, came a soft, yet sinister laugh. Mavet and Severus both turned to face the sound, and were greeted by a seemingly docile, gorgeously glinting, golden serpent peering through the crystal leaves. He flicked his tongue (which Severus noted was not forked) and flared his hood as he cocked his head to inspect the pair.

"Ha! You see, Angel? It was not the fault of the serpent, but the tree!" The cobra grinned (though how he did this without facial muscles, we will never know) and bared his fangs. Then he turned to Severus. "Greetings, human, what brings you to the Void?"

Severus stared. Then he turned to Mavet and asked, "Am I now a Parselmouth as well? Because I could have sworn I just heard and understood what that snake just said."

Mavet grinned uneasily, as if she were preparing to back out of a possibly dangerous situation, which Severus could see this had just become, due to the now-affronted serpent glaring inches from his face.

"Parselmouth! How dare you, human? I daresay I can speak the wretched tongue far less than you!" And with that, the gold cobra darted back into the trees from whence he came.

Severus looked startled, and then turned to Mavet as if to inquire as to what had previously transpired.

"Naga is a firstling; one of the two first snakes ever created. Every snake now living on earth is descended from Naga and his mate—"

"Former mate!" interrupted Naga from his leafy perch.

Mavet sighed. "… former mate, Nagini." At this, Severus's eyes grew wide in realization. "Because Nagini tempted Eve, her tongue was split. Naga's was not."

"Ah, so that's where the Dark Lord obtained his familiar," Severus mused. "Lucifer."

"Indeed." Then Mavet turned back to the tree. "Naga, Severus apologizes, and I must speak with you."

"Really?" inquired the snake. "Then I wish to hear it from his own Parsel-less tongue!"

Mavet rolled her eyes and looked at Severus pleadingly.

Severus sighed in response. He was not one to be known for apologies. "I apologize deeply for offending your obviously un-split tongue. (He still could not believe he was apologizing to a snake.) Please excuse my actions, for I was previously unaware." Severus groaned inwardly at his overly elaborate use of vocabulary for the benefit of a reptile, whether or not it was the symbol of his house. He wanted to hang himself. A random handful of neurons fired, and he supposed that someone might be laughing at him 'up there' except for the fact that he happened to currently be 'up there'. _Oh, sod it_, he thought; it was probably Mavet.

Naga instantly poked his head back out of the surreal foliage as if he'd known all along that Severus would apologize. "Good."

"As it would seem," he continued, _oh Merlin, shut me up. _"I've happened upon this former mate of yours, Nagini, and she is ever as despicable as you've inferred."

Naga's serpentine face darkened. "Treacherous bitch," he muttered angrily. He instantly perked up after that, however, most probably on account of niceties. "What did you want with me?" he asked, turning to Mavet.

"How did Lucifer get the sword?" Mavet asked sharply, nearly snapping at the reptile.

"What sword?" Naga asked, cocking his head.

Mavet's face darkened. "Don't play coy with me!"

"Don't be absurd, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The sword! The Black Blade! I want to know how Lucifer got his hands on it." She grabbed Naga's throat in her fist and shook him slightly, as if this would refresh his memory. As more of a reflex, than an actual attempt to harm Mavet (how could a snake have harmed an Angel, anyway?) Naga's mouth snapped open, and his long, dripping fangs hovered millimeters from her wrist. He hissed, which was more of a growl, and closed his mouth slowly, standing his ground.

"Well, if you were talking about _that_ sword, you should have said so in the first place," he growled in annoyance. "Now release me before I decide to cause you unnecessary pain." Reluctantly, she did and Naga yawned as he re-hinged his jaw. Then he did a double take and peered curiously up at Mavet. "I thought you already knew about that."

"I do!" Mavet replied. "I know that Lucifer has the sword and that he's gotten a living wizard to use it on his behalf."

"But then don't you know why the Metatron has declared a state of hostility?"

Mavet rolled her eyes. "Obviously, he's pissed at Lucifer and he wants the Blade back."

Naga's thoughtfully coy expression froze for a moment and then turned to one of dry cynicism. "Sadly, no. I'm afraid you're mistaken."

Suddenly, Severus spoke up. "What other reason could there possibly be? More importantly, why _wouldn't_ he want to ensure the safety of a weapon that powerful?"

Naga looked at him for a moment and then spoke again to Mavet. "He's taken Morpheus."

"What?" Mavet yelped suddenly.

"That's how Lucifer was able to steal the sword in the first place," Naga explained. "He took control of Morpheus, being very careful to not have Morpheus actually touch the thing, and was able to sneak him into the Void to retrieve it." Naga let this sink in before continuing. "It was perfect, really; Morpheus is close enough to you that he wouldn't seem out of place, yet just enough out of touch with reality to have been easily manipulated. Once he'd realized what was happening, it would already have been too late."

Mavet looked stricken. "So where is Morpheus?" she asked quietly.

"Nobody knows," replied the snake. "I assume he is still under Lucifer's control. But you do realize that the only real reason Heaven has supported you is because of Morpheus. The Bright One doesn't care about the Blade."

"Why not? Lucifer could destroy all of the Upper Kingdom!"

"Yes," Naga agreed, "but at the moment, the Metatron has nothing to lose by letting Lucifer have the sword momentarily. In fact, he has everything to gain from allowing Lucifer to go through with his plan."

"That's absurd!" cried Mavet, flailing her arms in confusion. "Lucifer's only goal is to capture and eventually obliterate a human boy! What could the Metatron possibly—"And then it clicked. Mavet froze as two and two suddenly came together in her mind to make a startlingly disturbing four. Harry Potter wasn't just some human boy, his soul was half Angel; he was a Nephilim. The Metatron had ordered her to eliminate the Nephilim, but she had refused and now he was letting Lucifer do it instead. She was a tool. She was a tool that had fought back and now she had been thrown aside, dropped to the floor as a useless husk. There was no higher power pledging loyalty; she was alone and friendless in a small dark corner of the universe. And now she was angry. The tool had fought back, and now it wanted the blood of those who had trespassed against it.

Mavet growled dangerously, a deep menacing sound in the back of her throat that was almost a purr—but Severus knew better. She turned angrily on her heel, startling both Severus and Naga, and hurried off to the side of the second level of the Void Fortress, continuing up the tightly winding spiral staircase. Severus would have been right behind her, were it not for the large venomous snake that had seized his wrist in its mouth.

"I'm coming with you," Naga said imperiously, as Severus carefully studied his hand. "And no, I was careful enough not to actually bite you, now hurry, or we'll lose her!"

Severus blinked in astonishment. He had half a mind to set this arrogant creature straight by informing him that in no way would he take orders from a creature less than half as evolved as he. But there was the small fact that Mavet climbing steadily higher. To where, Severus did not know, but he suspected this serpent might, and it just so happened that said serpent was now coiled about his shoulders like an extravagant gold scarf, with his head tucked close to Severus's own, his tail draping down the wizard's back. And that was how Severus Snape, Hogwarts Potions Master extraordinaire, and double agent against the Dark Lord for the Order, had come to be hurtling through the air on wings that were not his own, in a fortress of the spirit realm ruled by a woman who was not a woman, but who currently claimed the title of 'Severus Snape's Love Interest'. Oh, and he had a talking golden cobra coiled around his neck. Yes, Severus's life had definitely taken a turn for the weird.

The newly formed muscles that joined Severus's borrowed wings to his shoulder blades burned wearily as Severus fought to climb higher and faster, barely keeping Mavet's tail in sight. Just when he was wondering if this spirit tower could possibly rise any higher, he heard the sharp clickety-click of talons on marble. Banking so sharply that Naga nearly lost his perch and was reduced to holding on by constricting Severus's trachea, Severus landed clumsily on a platform to his left, loosened his serpentine 'scarf' with a quick jerk of his thumb, and was sprinting down the long, dark, corridor only seconds later. If only his students could see him now… if nothing else, they'd be surprised at how fast their professor could move on those incredibly long legs of his.

Having nearly caught up to his Angelic counterpart, Severus reached a large heavy door carved intricately out of ebony, left open a mere three or so inches from having been shoved violently open several moments prior. Furiously shoving his hands between the doorframe and the door, Severus wrenched the door open and had to shield his eyes against what he saw within. Bombarded by moonlight so bright it surpassed the sun, dust and smoke tendrilled its way through the air; hellish clouds that finally parted, no longer obstructing his view of Mavet, though he was no longer sure that this was a good thing. Cries louder than the angriest wind thundered around him, as a tempest roared like a whirlwind around the black form of Death. The silvery smoke finally separated itself from the surrounding air and took the shape of three women, floating ghostlike as they drifted down to sit upon the floor at Mavet's feet.

The faces of the three were twisted into sinister glares and smirks as they hissed and jeered at the Angel of Death. The one on the left looked about twenty, with long silken ice-blonde hair that would put Narcissa Malfoy to shame. The one in the centre wore a guise of a middle-aged woman, amber hair just starting to grey, and the third was an old hag with hair as white as snow, and a mask wrought with wrinkles. Drawing on his link with Mavet, no doubt, Severus recognized each as the Maiden, Mother and Crone. These were the three Fates who presided over the future, present, and past, respectively. The youngest one, the Maiden of the future, cackled with glee as she spied Severus striding into the throne room, and Mavet turned briefly to acknowledge him.

"Ooh, look, sisters, the Angel has brought us a human!" The blonde Fate clapped her hands together and eyed Severus hungrily. Severus merely glared in response.

"QUIET!" snapped Mavet as she violently unsheathed her sword and held it millimeters from the Maiden's throat. This put an instant stop to the trio's maniacal laughter, yet they retained their sardonic grins.

"What's the matter, Dark One?" rasped the Crone. "Must you keep such insipid company as help, now that you're no longer perched safely on the top rung of the ladder?" The other two chuckled at the comment, and Mavet's gleaming silver blade quickly traveled to the wiry neck of the Crone.

"Where is Mephistopheles?" she hissed so quietly that Severus barely heard her. He recognized her tone, however, much to his amusement; it was the same tone he used with Neville Longbottom when he felt so inclined to explode his cauldron all over Severus's dungeon.

"Where do you think?" the Crone replied with satisfaction.

"The problem is that she _doesn't_ think," laughed the Maiden.

"Or," began the Mother, "maybe he is where she _doesn't_ think he is, which if you are correct dear," she motioned to the Maiden, "could very well be anywhere, especially where he in fact is."

Severus would swear later that he hadn't even seen the blade twitch. The next thing he remembered was the Mother's stately head rolling across the floor, and the looks of complete seriousness on the other two Fates' faces as they stared interestedly at it's motion away from it's former body.

"Bitch!" cursed the rolling head of the newly decapitated Fate, and Severus realized, wide-eyed, that he'd been a fool to presume her dead.

"Indeed," said Mavet dryly, causing the corner of Severus's mouth to quirk slightly upwards. Finally sensing that she wasn't going to get anything but ridiculous riddles from the three Fates, Mavet turned on her heel with an angry growl, and stormed out of the sinister ballroom.

"Lucifer will annihilate your Nephilim regardless, Dark One," the Maiden called out after the pair. "I have seen it," she laughed. "It will be a glorious end!"

At that Mavet froze, and turned silently to face the malicious Fate. Severus made to grab her arm, but Naga quickly wrapped his tail around the offending limb, shaking his head furiously for the wizard to remain still. Slowly and calmly Mavet walked back to stand before the Maiden, wings slightly flared, and a look of frightening calmness on her angular visage. She didn't bother to draw her sword. She turned suddenly, extending her wing, and with a sharp 'CRACK' of air, the Maiden's head went rolling along to land beside that of the Mother. Two more lightning quick flashes of the Angel's wings and the Maiden's arms were severed as well.

Ignoring the venomous onslaught of curses and insults that followed, Mavet strode from the room, grasping Severus's hand tightly as she came to him, and they finally left the room of the Fates. Slamming the large, heavy door with a bang that echoed throughout the entire spire for several seconds, Mavet drew Severus close and finally sagged against him, her strength nearly sapped. She pressed her face into his chest and released a ragged, dry sob of complete and utter despair.

"There's no hope anymore, Severus. Harry is as good as dead. I've failed, and now his soul will be torn apart and thrown to Lucifer like a corpse thrown to dogs!"

"Don't be stupid," Naga hissed from somewhere by Severus's shoulder as said wizard tried to comfort the near-hysterical Angel.

"What do you mean?" asked Severus as he wiped away Mavet's tears with a sweep of his hand.

"Well," Naga began, and Severus could have sworn he saw the snake grin. "Haven't you always wondered why there are some humans who are wizards and some who are muggles?"

"Well, certainly, but–"

"And haven't you realized that Angels possess powers similar, yet more enhanced, to those of wizard-kind?"

Apparently Mavet realized what Naga was going on about because she began to smile, but Severus was still clueless; something that he absolutely despised being.

"Will you just get on with it already?"

"Jeez, temper, temper," Naga huffed. "My point is that this same thing happened thousands of years ago, and nothing horrible came of it. Although I must say that my decision about that may change somewhat after meeting you, Mr. Snape," he added wryly.

Severus merely glared.

"What he means, Severus," Mavet continued, "is that the first generation of Nephilim went on living. At first they were immeasurably powerful, but as the Angelic essence continued to mix with that of other humans, their power diminished somewhat, and the result today are the witches and wizards of what you call the magical world. Harry Potter is the last true Nephilim alive."

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